18 Karat Run: Through Hardships and Sorrows
by JRisner
Summary: Six travels to Zion with the Happy Trails trading company. But he has his own reasons for seeking out New Canaan...A trial lies before him. A life hangs in the balance. But what will become of him when he meets the infamous Joshua Graham? Where the Burned Man walks...he leaves a path of flames and destruction.
1. Prologue: Happy Trails!

_**STOP! Be sure you're up to date on 18 Karat Run: A Courier's Tale! (Read up through Chapter 20!) And make sure you've read 18 Karat Run: Aces & Eights!**_

_So it begins...The prologue is just wrapping up a few loose ends for the main story line. Graham is just around the corner! I meant to have this chapter posted a couple nights ago...but I just couldn't get it the way I wanted it. I rewrote this probably about three times in total since Monday. And I'm not talking about editing...I mean I completely scrapped it and started from scratch three different times before I was satisfied._

_But here's the result! Hopefully, you all enjoy it._

* * *

Dark. Cold. Bland. Boring. These were just some of the words that came to Benny's mind, sitting in his cell on the Strip.

"So that was your grand scheme? Throw me off a cliff?"

Six grinned. "Something like that. I needed to get you out of the fort alive."

"You could have just asked Baldie to let me go…"

Boone shook his head. "The Legion doesn't release prisoners."

"Well, baby…" Benny clasped the bars in his hands. "Why'd you spring me? Just to throw me in this shit hole?"

"I won't lie…I had no intention of releasing you. I wanted blood."

"Then why have your boys waiting to pull me from the lake?"

"We weren't waiting on you," Boone confessed.

"I didn't like the idea of walking blindly into the arms of Caesar. Raul and Boone weren't down there for you…they were down there for me."

"You can only imagine my surprise when I jump into that lake to haul your sorry ass out," Boone told Benny flatly.

"So, what? You were going to jump off a cliff?"

"If things went south, yes. After Alerio killed your men and released me, I met with House. I'm no idiot. I knew that if you walked into the arms of Caesar, that it was the end of you anyway. But…you still had the chip…"

"So the old man sends you to get it…"

"Right. But I didn't think that Caesar would give it up so willingly. I assumed I'd be fighting my way out of the Fort."

Benny shook his head. "So you have your boys waiting to fish you out of the lake after you take the plunge…I'll be a sonuva…but you said you were going to do me in. What changed your mind?"

"Chalk it up to forgiveness."

"Baby, you're breaking my heart. I'm seriously going to start crying here. For real though…what ace do you have up your sleeve?"

Six smiled. "Hegelian Dialectics."

* * *

"Such a fragile thing, isn't it?"

Six twirled the chip between his fingers.

"Yet so…capacious. So very dear. Decades of hiring salvagers to search for this lost relic in the ruins of Sunnyvale…or, at least, that's what it was called back then."

"What exactly is this chip for?"

"Everything," House's voice grew more and more excited. "Place the chip in the terminal."

Six did as he was asked.

"This will upgrade the securitrons on the strip…I'm sure you're very familiar with them by now? What you don't know, however, is that the securitrons have been running on the Mark I operating systems. Their X-25 gatling laser, their 9mm crowd control submachine gun…both secondary weapons. The chip was to be delivered to me on October 23, 2077. Unfortunately, the bombs fell first…just twenty hours before the chip's delivery. Suffice to say…the chip was lost. So many resources poured into finding something so small…something that will change the fate of the Mojave…There. I have broadcasted the upgrade to every securitron within range of my transmitters. Unfortunately, I must ask you to return to Caesar's camp."

"Caesar asked me to kill you."

"Yes, I imagine he would. But you're going to do the smart thing. You're going to work for me."

"Why?"

"Because you and I…we are alike. Most people can only dream of being important. But we don't have to…we are."

"That's not much of an incentive."

"Incentive? I'm not going to offer you a monetary incentive…although there will be plenty of that. What I am offering you is a ground-floor opportunity in the most important enterprise on the planet – I'm offering you a future. Not only for you…but for the remnants of the human race."

"A future?"

"Exactly. Give me a decade, and I'll have humanity restored to its former glory. Two decades, and I'll reignite the high technology development sectors. Fifty years? I'll have people in orbit. In a century, colony ships will be headed for the stars in search of planets unpolluted by the folly of a failed generation."

"I still don't see what you're offering me?"

"I'm offering you a place in history. I'm offering you immortality! And…of course…all the perks that go with being the right hand in my autocracy."

"So you want to rule as a tyrant?"

"A tyrant? No, tyrants abuse their power. I would rule as chief executive. If you want to see the fate of democracies…look out the window."

"And what's to stop you from abusing your power?"

"My judgment, of course. I have no interest in abusing others, just as I have no interest in dictating what people do in their private time. I am no God, and I do not intend to pretend to be so. I would see mankind progress unimpeded."

Six laughed under his breath. "If I go back to see Caesar with you still alive…he'll likely have me strung up."

"Yes…I suppose you're right. I'm not going to lie to you, it will be dangerous. But the weather station there…it is vital to our plans. We have a lot to accomplish, you and I."

"You want me to kill Caesar?"

"Absolutely not! He's of much use to us. Providing a distraction for the NCR. Do not harm a single hair on his head."

Six chuckled. "I don't think I could find one. What's in the weather station?"

"Oh…" House began, furtively, "I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise. We'll talk more when you return." Ellipses replaced the onscreen figure. Then the connection timed out.

Six trekked back to the elevator. He boarded it and pressed the key assigned to his suite. The elevator opened with an electronic beep.

He wandered into the game room. Christine and Veronica were enveloped in a game of chess.

"You two seen Cass?"

"She left a little while ago. Had a bag with her…she seemed pretty upset." Christine replied, briefly looking up from the board.

Six scowled.

"Something happen between you two?"

"A lot happened…"

Veronica cast him a sympathetic smile. "You want to talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about. She say where she was going?"

"Yeah…Novac. Something about picking up where she left off. You going to go after her?"

Six shook his head miserably. "No…I think she needs some space."

"I'm sorry…what are you going to do now?"

"Focus on House's efforts."

* * *

Six was seized upon his return to the Fort. His weapons were stripped from him and he was brought before Caesar.

"You impudent little shit. This will be the last time you disobey an order from me, do you understand?"

"I haven't had an opportunity to get to House. The man's got security…a lot of it. As I'm sure you've noticed. This is going to take time."

"I'm not fucking talking about House. I'm talking about that piece of shit you tossed over that cliff to his death…you can only imagine my surprise when reports come back from my Frumentarii that he's shown up on the strip in NCR custody."

Six swallowed.

"Are you frightened?" Caesar scowled. "You should be…tell me, what would you do in my position? You realize that you have to be made an example of, don't you?"

Six took a long breath.

Caesar stood from his iron throne and disappeared into his tent. Six could see – but could not hear – him conversing with Lucius. After a long, uncomfortable wait, Lucius emerged and clasped Six's shoulder. "On your feet, profligate."

Six stood. The aged man's grip was surprisingly stout. Lucius lead him into the tent.

"After much consideration, I have decided your fate."

Six remained silent.

"You remember my Legate? You met him…the one clad in golden armor?"

"Lanius."

"Yes. He was not my first Legate. I'm sure you've heard the legends…the legends of the Burned Man, walking the wastes. Exacting his own brand of justice upon the world."

"I can't say that I have."

Caesar scowled. "His name is Joshua Graham. My Legion is forbidden to speak of him…for good reason. His failure at Hoover Dam was inexcusable. I had to set an example. To show my men that failure, even at the highest level, could not be tolerated." Caesar took a seat and looked up at Six. "Kneel before the mighty Caesar."

"On your knees, profligate," Lucius brought his forearm down on Six's neck. He fell to his knees.

"Do you know what I did to Graham?" Caesar narrowed his eyes. "I had him coated in pitch, lit on fire, and tossed into the Grand Canyon. What do you think about that?"

Six's mouth curled into a frown. "Sounds like a little overkill to me."

"Overkill?" Caesar nodded in agreement. "Yes. You would think so, wouldn't you? But no. The legends of the Burned Man are no ordinary legends. They're very much true. And Graham…he's very much alive. After his…punishment…I began to hear reports of sightings across the wastes. And, eventually, he made his way to New Canaan."

Six's eyes lit up.

"You've heard of it? Good. When I heard reports of him surfacing in New Canaan, I sent my best assassins. They never returned. So I struck a deal with a band of tribals. And they salted the earth where once New Canaan stood. Yet, they did not return the head of Joshua Graham."

"Is this my punishment? You're going to talk me to dea…"

A swift blow to back of his head silenced him.

"No. You tracked Benny across the Mojave. Now I want you to do the same for me. Your punishment is this: You will be the one to bring me the head of Joshua Graham."

"And if I refuse?"

Caesar cast a look at Lucius – who, thereafter, exited the tent. When next he entered, he escorted a prisoner. A woman. Blonde. Familiar.

"Vulpes has informed me that you two are close."

Then Six recognized her. Frieda. The woman was bound and gagged. Her eyes full of fear.

"Do you think I would have entrusted you with killing House…let you have Benny, not to mention the chip, if I didn't also have a way of…motivating you?"

Six could hardly remember the woman…but something inside of him snapped. He immediately raised to his feet, only to come face to face with a brute of a man…the Legate. Lanius wrapped one massive hand around his throat and hoisted him into the air. Six could barely breathe.

Caesar was on his feet now. His eyes met Six's firmly. "This is the way this is going to play out. You're going to agree to my terms. You're going to travel to New Canaan. You're going to find Joshua Graham. And you're going to kill him. When you've done that…your trespass will be forgiven, and I will let her go. Know that I only extend this mercy once. The next time we meet…if you do not carry the head of Graham. I will end you."

* * *

"Good to see you."

"Jed," Six nodded. "You still looking for a business partner?"

"Straight to business then?" Jed grinned wide. "I like that. Please, have a seat."

Six sat down. Across from him, situated behind his desk, Jed trifled through some drawers. "That gal…what was her name?"

"Cass."

"That's the one. She won't be joining you today?"

"No, not today."

"That's a shame. She was easy on the eyes. She discussed the price with you?"

"She did."

"And?"

Six reached into his bag and dropped a gold bar onto the desk before him. The dull thud of metal on metal echoed throughout the room. Jed greedily took in his golden prize.

"Well," he laughed lightly under his breath. "That's certainly enough."

"When do we leave?"

"We?"

"Yes. If I'm going to put this much resources into this company, I want to see it succeed."

"Of course. Well…" Jed paused. "We didn't intend to leave until tomorrow morning…but as our patron, I suppose you could make the final call."

"We'll leave as soon as my men get here."

"Your men?"

"Yes. That won't be a problem, I trust?"

"Well…"

"I mean, after all. You did say this would make me a partner in the caravan."

Jed smiled. "Of course."

Six slid the gold bar across the table and wandered back outside. He gazed up into the evening sky. Before long, he saw them on the horizon. Two distinct figures, slowly making their way across the wastes. A man in a vault jumpsuit wandered out of the building, situating himself next to Six. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, drew one and lit it up. He offered one to Six. Six took it graciously.

"Need a light?"

Six leaned forward and the man lit up his cigarette. Six took a draw and coughed a bit.

"Don't smoke much, huh?"

"I'm a nervous smoker," Six admitted.

"You seemed a bit stressed out. Is it the trip? You're not afraid are you?"

Six shook his head.

"Good. Cause I don't want to have to carry another sorry mother fucker."

Six skeptically raised a brow. "And who are you?"

"You want to know who I am, bud? I'm 'Deadeye' Ricky."

Six laughed. "How'd you get that name?"

"Uh…how the fuck do you think? I shoot things in the eye! That's how good I am. Something or someone makes the mistake of crossing Ricky, I'll fucking deadeye him, her, or it. Why…once I got jumped by three deathjaws!"

"You mean deathclaws?"

"Did I say deathclaws? You fucking heard me. Deathjaws…they're like deathclaws, but with bigger teeth. Four of them…bam out of fucking nowhere."

"You said three before."

"Did I? I meant four. I never said I was good with numbers, pal…the point is, I wasn't afraid. I was a storm of death! Shot every one of them in the fucking eye! Another time one of them Steel Brotherhood fucks pops up and tells me to hand over my weapon! What an asshole! So I hand it over. You know…to make him think I'm scared? But really I'm not. Ricky's not scared of anything. Before he knows what hit him…bam! I pop him with my eleven millimeter machinegun right through the eyeslit in his helmet!"

"…Sure you did, buddy."

"What? You looking for trouble, pal? Cause I have a whole lot of it. Right here…fucking Ricky don't take shit from no one!"

Six tilted his head and looked at the man.

"Why are you even here?"

"I go wherever the fuck I want, pal! The shit I do is so far over your head…it'd be a waste of my time to put it in words you could understand! See this!" He pointed to the pip-boy on his wrist. "This is my pit-boy! It makes me badass! More badass than I already am! I'm going to use this thing to get us to New Canaan!"

Six tapped his own. "I've got one too, kid."

"What? Oh! Of course you do! First thing I noticed about you. I'm so used to wearing mine, it's normal. Don't think…"

Six cut him off with a quick jab to the throat. Ricky gasped for air.

"Look…Ricky?...I really don't have the patience to mess with you. So here's what's going to happen. You're going to take off walking in any fucking direction you want. And you're not going to turn around. Because if you turn around, I'm going to put a bullet…" Six jammed his finger between Ricky's eyes. "Right here. And trust me, deadeye. I'm not going to miss. And I'm not going to hesitate. So you take your sorry ass and disappear…before I put you in the ground."

The man, still gasping for breath, quickly nodded. Six watched him as he disappeared in the distance. Passing the two figures on his way.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Six had to stifle his laughter.

"What, Boss? This is my vaquero outfit…it's all the rage, didn't you know?"

"He insisted we go by his shack so he could fetch some items."

Six shook his head. "And those?"

Raul turned over a worn black sawed off shotgun and an ivory gripped .44 magnum. "I call this one Rafaela," He said, looking at the shotgun. Then the magnum, "And this one Claudia."

"After your sisters?"

"Well…one of them after my sister. The other? That's a story for another time, Boss."

"And that rifle?"

The rifle in question was a hunting rifle. It was very well maintained, and tied around the stock was an unfamiliar flag.

"Paciencia boss."

"No scope?"

"Don't need one, Boss. It's all about taking your time."

Six shrugged. Behind him, Jed and his team emerged from the building.

"These your men?"

Six responded with a quiet nod.

"Well…I suppose we better get a move on."

* * *

"Mother agreed to have him play your assassin…but I want your word that, regardless of whether or not he succeeds, my brother and sister will be avenged."

"When he is of no more use to me, I'll send his heart to Reno with a fucking ribbon tied around it."

Frieda smiled. "If there's nothing else, I'll be taking my leave."

Caesar waved his hand in dismissal.

Frieda stood to take her leave.

"You're sure this will work?" Caesar carefully studied the woman.

"If he's the same man he was before that prick shot him, he'll die before he lets anything happen to me."

"If? I'm not a gambling man, Frieda."

"If I may interrupt, my Lord," the calm voice of Vulpes interjected.

Caesar turned his attention to the man.

"My scouts report that he's been seen with a woman…Alerio assures me that he would go through great lengths to keep her from harm."

"And where is this woman now?"

"Novac, my Lord."

Caesar nodded in approval. "Send Canyon Runner to Novac. Tell him to get comfortable. When Six gets back…if he hasn't completed his task…we'll make him wish he had."

"As you command, my Lord."

Frieda's eyes shone with jealousy. "Who is this woman?"

Vulpes smiled. "Your family knows of her well…or, at the very least, her father. Rose of Sharon Cassidy."

* * *

_And so begins Six's trip to Zion..._

_Next time: The long awaited arrival of my favorite character...Joshua Graham._


	2. Chapter 1: Paradise Found

_This chapter was hard to write initially...I had writers block something fierce. After I fought it off though, the chapter went smoothly. I'd posted this last night, but I'm not going to lie...It just wasn't satisfactory. My brain refused to cooperate with me._

Anyway, welcome to Zion. Enjoy.

* * *

There are varying opinions on time and reality. Isn't it strange that time seems to come to a crawl when you're doing something you'd really rather not be doing? And yet…it seems to fly by when you don't want something to end…or, even worse, when you're drawing in on a deadline. The reality of it is simple…time's passing is unchanging. It moves at a solid sixty seconds per minute no matter what you're doing or who you are. The key to it all, as it turns out, is perception.

The journey to Zion was seemed to pass in a matter of moments…though his pip-boy argued the contrary. Two weeks…two weeks he'd been on this rocky path, climbing down cavernous walls and cliff faces he was sure he'd never be able to scale again. Six stopped momentarily to gaze back up one such crag…taking the briefest moment to think to himself.

"How have we not fallen to our deaths…"

It was Jed.

"That's what you're thinking right?"

"Actually, I was a little more concerned about how we'd be getting back to the Mojave."

"Ah," Jed nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good question. One we'll discuss with the residents of New Canaan."

The air around them danced and twirled, picking up brush and dust. The wind howled – the terrifying sound of a banshee, a sound that…for reasons not quite known to him…sent shivers down Six's spine.

"What can you tell me about New Canaan?"

Jed shrugged. "Don't know too much about the place, to be honest. But the people…follow some kind of religious principles from before the war. That don't mean they're pacifists…believe me. They control the old city of Ogden…built the city of New Canaan within those ruins. It's a ways north of Zion…" He pointed over a nearby ridge. "We'll be in Zion by sundown. From there, it's quite a ways."

Six frowned. "New Canaan…I've heard tells of the Burned Man being from up that way."

Jed shook his head. "Don't mention the name Joshua Graham to anyone. At all. Ever. Or the Burned Man for that matter. It makes the New Canaanites powerful uncomfortable…and scares the hell out of the tribals. Trust me…it's for your own good."

Six could see Stella, Raul, and Boone ahead of them, near the top of the ridge. Stella turned and made her way back towards them at a light jog. "Just head," she explained, "there's a gorge…a big one. Leads down into cave system. We'll have to go around it."

"No," Jed shook his head. "We'll go through. We don't have the time or resources to trek around."

* * *

The inside of the cave system branched off in endless directions – dark corridors twisting seemingly endlessly through the Earth's crust. The dark was all consuming – Six's pip-boy light could barely penetrate it.

"I can't see shit…" Six complained.

"Here," Stella's voice replied in the darkness. Six felt her hand grasp his shoulder. "Take a couple of these."

She snatched his wrist and dropped two pills into his palm.

Six shook his head in darkness. "Never been one for drugs."

"Never heard of anyone getting addicted to cateye," she mused.

With a shrug, Six swallowed the capsules. After a moment his eyes adjusted…the cave was alive in a brilliant blue light.

"Do you feel that?" Boone's voice echoed faintly throughout the cavern.

"A breeze," Six answered. "Must be getting close…"

They continued along their way, finally stumbling out into the open terrain. The moon was high in the night's sky.

"Do you mind?"

Six turned to see Jed, who – in turn – was staring at Six's pip-boy. Six flipped his wrist up and showed it to Jed. He studied the map carefully.

"We're definitely in Zion…see here…" he pointed along the map. This is Route 9, coming up through Rockville. We can follow through to the Pine Creek Tunnel. It'll take us to 89…where we'll head north, traveling parallel to the Long-15. Should keep us out of harm's way."

Jed stretched and cast his gaze to the sky.

"But…for now, let's set up camp," he wandered over to his guards and began giving them instructions. Before long, they disappeared into the wilderness and returned with kindling – with which they built a fire. Six plopped down into the dirt next to Stella. She stared into the crackling flames – occasionally prodding the fire with a branch.

"Where's that _friend_ of yours? She seemed pretty keen on getting the caravan last I talked to Jed. Surprised she isn't with you now."

Six cleared his nose. "Things don't always turn out like you'd expect, I guess. So…you said you were from New Reno. What made you leave?"

Stella chuckled softly to herself. "You been there…it's like New Vegas, 'cept without the all-seeing eye of Mr. House. No authority…everybody has a gun and a jet addiction. Non-stop whoring and drugs."

"A city of vice and sin…right? What's not to love?"

She laughed again. "I know, right? I couldn't walk down the street without being asked to star in a porn movie."

Six shrugged lightly. "Can you blame them for trying?"

Stella shook her head, a wry smile spread wide across her face. "Anyway…I got my ass out of there quick, while I still owned it."

"Where'd you go?"

"A little place called Caliente…north on the 93. Spent the prime of my life playing sheriff there…protecting people from dangers within and without. If it wasn't the 80's or White Legs raiding…it was some asshole drunk off his saddle, trying to win an argument with a shotgun." She sighed. "I got tired of shooting folk I set out to protect. Talk about a pain in the ass…you want my opinion? Best to keep moving. At least the scenery changes."

Six grinned at her. "The scenery looks pretty good from where I'm sitting."

She smiled a petite smile, biting her lower lip. "You're certainly a smooth one, aren't you?"

Six raised his brows and tilted his head lightly to the side. "I have my moments…"

"Well…liste…"

"Am I interrupting something, Boss?"

Six turned his gaze up to Raul, who situated himself across from Six and warmed his hands at the fire.

"As a matter of fact…"

"Not at all," Stella smiled at the ghoul. "What's your story, handsome?"

"Oh," Raul grinned coyly. "It's a long one, Miss."

"Well, we _are_ going to be here a while."

"I suppose it couldn't hurt to divulge a little bit…if it's alright with you, Boss…"

Six sighed and waved his hand dismissively.

"Well…I grew up in a place called Hidal…"

The valley echoed with thunder.

"Get down!"

Six turned to see Boone diving to the ground. He situated himself and scanned the hills around him.

More thunder ripped through the valley as a pelt of bullets sprayed the sand around them. Six was on his chest now. He surveyed his surroundings…Raul was behind a sizeable rock, periodically taking blind shots onto the mesas surrounding them. Stella was on the ground next to him…he fumbled for his rifle. Bullets peppered ground. "Take cover!" He barked.

She didn't move.

"C'mon…you can't freeze up on me…you said you've dealt with…"

Then he saw it. The crimson spreading from beneath her.

"Fuck!" He rolled her over onto her back…she was long gone. He scurried across the warzone that had once been their campground and situated himself flat on the ground next to Boone. "How many?"

Boone's voice was calm…too calm. It was terrifying. "I don't know. Can't get a visual. It's too dark."

Dark…

"Wait…I have an idea." Six crawled back to Stella's body and fumbled through her pockets. "C'mon…" he withdrew a small rust colored bottle with poorly drawn green feline eyes branded across the label. He returned to Boone. "Here!" He emptied the contents of the bottle into his hands. Two tablets. He gave one to Boone. Boone downed it in a swift motion. Then returned to firing. Six rolled onto his back and looked to Raul's position. He was still firing. "Raul!"

"Kinda busy, Boss!"

Six jammed the pill back into the bottle and closed the lid tight. He pitched the bottle at Raul.

"It's cateye!"

Raul scooped it up and took cover. After a moment he remerged and fired. A scream echoed through the canyon.

Six holstered his rifle and reached for the holorifle. He peered through the scope…the world was alive in an eerie green light.

"I knew I kept this thing for a reason…"

Six could see them. Dozens of them…lining the walls of the canyon, firing at the group. What was left of the group…

Six fired. A blistering white light zipped across the canyon. Their attackers ceased firing. Through his night vision scope, he could see them staring at the ashen remains of their comrade. Again he fired. And another fell. They were dropping like flies now…between Boone, Six, and Raul. But…even still…they were dropping so fast...too fast.

"What the hell…" Boone wondered aloud. He searched the mesas around them. Then he saw them, charging fast – wielding pistols and warclubs; lead by a thin man with an ornate baseball cap. The man split off from the others and made his way to the group. The gunfire…or at least the gunfire from their attackers had long ceased. The only gunfire remaining was that of their would-be rescuers.

The man approached them swiftly – all three stood, greeting him with the ends of their barrels.

"Hoi! Whoa! I'm a friend!"

"Yeah? And who are you, exactly?"

"My name is Follows-Chalk! Our advanced scouts saw you enter the gorge. We assumed the White Legs would attack you, so when word reached our camp our Chief instructed me to assist you."

"Well," Six took a breath. "I guess we owe you our gratitude. Lucky you came along when you did. Else we'd wound up like them…" Six cast a glance at the other members of the expedition. All dead…or dying.

"White Legs don't leave survivors often! You're some kind of lucky, let me tell you."

"White Legs?" Six cast a glance back to the corpse of Stella.

"Nasty bunch, the White Legs. They've been raiding deeper into Zion ever since New Canaan was wiped out."

"Hold up…step back a second. New Canaan was wiped out?" Boone asked.

"The White legs came down from the Great Salt Lake in force . Fell on New Canaan before they could mount a defense. The entire settlement was massacred…all except for our Chief and a number of other missionaries."

Boone turned to Six. "This whole damn expedition was for nothing, then."

"Maybe… You said your Chief sent you…"

"Yes. Joshua…he leads our tribe. He has instructed me to bring you to him. He wants to talk to anyone coming up from the south…from the civilized lands."

Six smiled…partly because the notion of a civilized Mojave amused him. But also because his gut told him this Chief was the man he sought. "Civilized?"

Follows-Chalk nodded. "The lands beyond the valley…the place where the cities never fell. Where people don't live in tribes and struggle and forage for food."

Six laughed. "I don't know where you think we're from. We might not have tribes…but we're definitely not civilized."

The tribal laughed nervously. "You sound like Joshua."

"Take us to this…Joshua."

Follows-Chalk nodded excitedly. "Of course! This way. He'll be most eager to meet you. And maybe while you're here…you can tell me about where you come from."

"We hail from the Mojave…"

"I've heard about it! Is it true that people there live inside of a giant thunder lizard?"

Boone smirked. "Live? No. But they sell stuff from in it…I used to sit in its mouth all day."

Follows-Chalk's eyes widened. "That must have been horrifying!"

Boone shrugged. "I got by."

"So…Follows-Chalk. That's an…interesting name. Certainly a mouthful."

"Please, call me Chalk…our advanced scouts, like the ones that saw your caravan, leave signs to mark places rich with game or other resources. I am not yet a full scout…so I follow the marks and guide the hunters."

"You're a scout…and your Chief sent you to our aid?" Boone asked skeptically.

"Well…I did not lead the group of warriors. I merely escorted them. And I was told to escort you back. The warriors are being lead by Two-Bears."

"That's a remarkable club you have there, kid," Raul commented, eyeing the club hanging at Chalk's waist.

"We decorate our clubs with bullet casings of Joshua's old tribe…they were once his weapons, and so now they are ours. We go north here…then south along the old road." They fell in line behind him. He walked silently – almost unnaturally silently. "Joshua has been our chief since he came back from the civilized lands. He fought in a war…but it didn't go well. Before he came to us, he served a man named…"

Chalk froze in place. Before them was the corpse of a giant green gecko…or, at the very least, what was left of it.

"Freeze."

The group did as they were commanded. Six glanced around in darkness. He couldn't _see_ but he could _hear_ the steady thump of something massive lurching down the hill at an incredible pace. He reached for his holorifle and peered through the night vision scope. The biggest yao guai he had ever seen was charging down the hill at them. It stopped just short of Six, roaring into the barrel of the rifle. Six felt his finger squeezing the trigger.

Both Boone and Raul raised their rifles, aiming at the beast.

"Don't…move…" Chalk slowly gripped the barrel of Six's rifle and lowered it. Six could see it now…it was in range of his pip-boy light. He could hear it sniffing him. He could smell its putrid breath. He could _feel_ its breath on his skin. The creature let out a low, guttural growl…then turned away from them and began trudging back up the hill.

After a beat, Chalk let out a sigh of relief. "Hoo! That was a close one!"

Six raised a brow. "You…did know that it wouldn't attack us, didn't you?"

Chalk shrugged. "It was an educated guess…" He motioned to the body of the gecko. "That's definitely the work of a yao guai…"

"But it could have been the work of a _different_ yao guai."

"Ahh," Chalk smiled lifting a single finger into the air. "But it wasn't."

"Next time," Boone growled. "I'm taking the shot."

The tribal laughed. "Bet you don't have anything as nasty as yao guai where you come from."

"Have you ever seen a deathclaw?" Six asked tepidly.

"Death…claw?"

"Yeah, didn't think so."

They continued up the hill. Follows-Chalk took every opportunity to comment on the beauty of Zion: every nook and rock, flora and fauna. He was even more excited when the sun began to rise.

"It's beautiful, isn't it! If we head to the top of that hill, there's a wonderful view."

Raul seemed to be enjoying himself as well. Absorbing the scenery around him.

They were on a road now. Follows-Chalk pointed to pikes lining the side of the road. All mounted with the heads of, what Six could only presume to be, fallen foes.

"You see the dead sentries?"

"Yeah."

"Our shaman say that the souls of our enemies are trapped in them…but Joshua says it shows we are serious about fighting the White Legs."

"Or anyone else," Boone mumbled.

"And there…those handprints?"

Six followed his gaze to a decrepit booth. It was decorated with white and red handprints.

"Dead Horses and Sorrows put those markings on taboo places. Places from back when."

"Taboo?"

"Yes. Those are the places the Father in the Caves forbids us from entering."

"The…Father in the Caves?"

"Yes. I'm not so sure about the old tales. But a lot of the tribals are. This way…"

The trio followed Chalk as he began to descend further into the canyon.

"I hope you don't mind getting wet…and be wary of traps in the water. Have to keep the white legs out somehow, yeah?" He laughed.

"What are these paintings?" Raul asked, looking up at massive murals decorating the walls.

"They show the Dead Horses' victories over other tribes. We have quite a bit more since Joshua came to us."

Raul admired the paintings a moment before catching up with the group. They waded waist deep through the clearest water Six had ever seen en route to the camp. After a while, the canyon widened. It was here the Dead Horses had set up camp.

"Joshua is just ahead, in Angel cave," Chalk walked seamlessly through the camp. Dodging playing children and working tribals. The tribals watched the group warily.

Inside the cave, a young woman greeted them. Her eyes shone with suspicion. Then she turned to Chalk. He pressed his lips to hers.

"Chalk…Owslanders zooka Joshua?"

Chalk nodded lightly. "Ja. Owslanders Joshua sent for."

She turned back to the group. "Joshua in high place of cave. You show respect, utman! Joshua is tribes greatest warrior. You show him respect or he show you thunder and fire!"

Chalk furrowed his brow. "Liebe. You should not talk to our guests in such a manner. It would displease Joshua."

He pressed his lips against hers again and turned back to the group. "Come, this way."

They followed him through the winding passages of the cave. This one…at the very least…was well lit. The cave's narrow passages opened up into a large hollow area. It was here they saw him…bandaged from head to toe and dressed in a white collared shirt and faded blue jeans. On his chest, he wore an old world vest. The sleeves of his shirt were adorned with tribal markings.

The man looked up at them – his eyes a surreal blue. He flipped a pistol around, examining the magazine, the slide, and the sights. When he was satisfied, he neatly stacked the pistol on the table at his side and scooped up another one. This time, however, he spoke as he inspected the weapon.

"This type of .45 automatic pistol was designed by one of my tribe almost four hundred years ago." His voice was icy. Calm. Rivaling Boone's own callous demeanor.

He sat the pistol down and reached for another, laying it on the table before him, and looked at the trio again. "Forgive me. We should have given you a better welcome on your first visit to Zion…but the White Legs, it seems, beat us to it…You have my sympathies; for the deaths of the other members of your group. The White Legs are the only visitors we seem to have these days. So we were ill prepared. I was not expecting anyone…least of all, someone from the Mojave."

"You know me?"

"Personally? No. But I know of you, courier. You're not the one I was expecting…but, I wonder, are your intentions the same?"

"Depends on what his intentions were. How'd you know we were coming?"

"The Dead Horses are capable scouts. More than capable really. Nothing passes into or out of Zion without my knowing of it."

"You seem to know an awful lot about us…just who are you?" Boone's asked flatly.

The man cast his cold gaze upon Boone. After a beat he gave him a light nod. "Fair enough. My name is Joshua Graham."

Boone instinctively reached for his sidearm. With lightning fast speed he drew it and fired.

* * *

_The exploit to bring companions into DLC worked out really well this time. I actually have Boone and Raul with me. So it's really keeping the in game tone in line with the game. If only Raul would stop finding cliffs to jump off of._

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter...Until next time!


	3. Chapter 2: Enemy of My Enemy

_So...Borderlands 2 came out this week. I'd almost forgotten about it, but I got a call from Gamestop. So I've been really preoccupied this week. Haha. The game is pretty awesome though._

This chapter is a lot of talking...as most of you know, I like dialogue and in this chapter I really get to delve into some things. It was a lot of fun to write. Anyway, here it is.

_Enjoy.  
_

* * *

"My name is Joshua Graham…"

Graham had barely finished the sentence when he saw it; Boone reaching for a black gripped pistol. Graham kicked his chair back, simultaneously flipping the table up onto its side. A shot rang out, piercing the table's wooden surface. Graham rolled forward and was on his feet – tearing across the room in an instant. Boone took aim again, but Graham was too fast. He pushed the pistol sidelong and drove his palm into Boone's chest. Boone stumbled, but didn't fall – retaliating with a strong right hook. Graham seamlessly slipped away from the attack, doubling back with a hard elbow to the back of Boone's head. Boone toppled forward – Graham grabbed him by the wrist, fiercely twisting his arm, and kicked Boone's legs out from under him. Boone fell flat to his chest, and Graham buried his heel into Boone's spine.

Six stepped forward – only to meet the barrel of Graham's pistol. Raul raised his rifle, leveling it at Graham's head.

"There are many reasons why that's a bad idea…I will illuminate three. First…if you intend to do violence, you'd better intend to kill. As long as the heart in my chest beats, I will hunt you…and, God willing, you will not leave this valley alive. Second…even if you do succeed, know that you are not alone in this valley. The Dead Horses…and Daniel…will retaliate. And, lastly, without our aid – between the White Legs, the 80's, and the vast wilderness…you will never find your way back to the Mojave."

Six held up his arms submissively. "Not here to make trouble."

"Is that so?"

Six grasped Raul's rifle and pushed it downwards, away from Graham.

"And this one?" Graham turned his gaze back towards Boone.

"He'll cooperate."

Boone struggled under Graham's heel. "Like Hell. Do you even know this son of a bitch? Do you know what he's done!?"

"It doesn't matter what he's done," Six calmly replied. "All that matters is what he's going to help us do."

Graham inquisitively tilted his head to one side.

"You said you were expecting another courier…who was it?"

"An assassin. I've killed enough of Caesar's frumentarii that have come looking. This one, in particular, travels the Mojave as a courier. Most of Caesar's agents meet a fitting end in NCR territory…but this one is resourceful. Maybe he's survived."

"Maybe it was me you should have been expecting."

"Caesar sent you?" Graham asked…though it sounded more like an accusation.

"He did."

"This certainly changes things. Caesar must think highly of your abilities to openly admit that I am alive…and to send you all this way. This puts him…and you…in a difficult position. Even if you kill me, he can never acknowledge it. To do so would be to confess that I never died…that the Mighty Caesar had made a mistake. He lives by his lies…and he shall die by his lies. And, in all likelihood, so will you. He would have you killed to keep his secret."

"I've entertained that very thought."

"No doubt. Else, I suspect, you'd have drawn your weapon by now. But, why come all this way if you had no intention of carrying out his orders?"

"I won't lie. I had considered it…the truth is. He has leverage…or, at the very least, he thinks he does."

"Leverage?"

"A woman."

"Someone special?"

Six shrugged. "A long time ago…maybe. But if he's willing to use her against me…it's only a matter of time before he gets his hands on someone I _do_ care about."

"Ah," Graham began to piece the puzzle together. "So you feed him an illusion…clever; perhaps foolishly so."

Six removed his beret and ran his hand through his hair. "Caesar suspects you're in New Canaan."

"I'm aware…" Graham nodded, knowingly. "New Canaan was destroyed…its citizens scattered. Because of the White Legs…and Caesar, of course." Graham sighed. "Because of me."

"Because they helped you?"

"Yes. The White Legs want to join the Legion…their rite of passage was the destruction of New Canaan."

"Their rite of passage was your head."

Graham took a breath and lowered his pistol – which, until this point had been directed at Six's head. "What exactly is it that you think I'm going to help you with?"

"What do you think? Caesar. I didn't travel to Zion to further his _illusion_. I came here looking for you."

"And now that you've found me?"

"I want you to help me to…overthrow a God king."

"Caesar's no God," Graham shook his head. "Still, you've wasted your time. There is nothing I can help you with."

"Bullshit," Six stepped towards Graham, palms still showing. "You've said yourself you've taken on scores of frumentarii. If anyone can kill him, it's you."

"I have my own problems to worry about," Graham spat back. "The White Legs…a marauding group of sycophants aiming to please Caesar. When they failed to eliminate the citizens in their attack on New Canaan, they began to hunt us down. Murdering the New Canaanites, and anyone we shelter. Anyone who shelters us."

"All the more reason to help me. Even now, miles away…Caesar beats on your door. Sends scores of men to find you. To kill you. And everyone you seek to protect. We can't stand by idly. We have to take the fight to his doorstep."

"And abandon these people in their hour of need? No. I can't…I _won't_ do that."

"Then we'll help you."

Graham swallowed and gave Six a light nod. "You're a good neighbor to us. You have my thanks." Graham removed his foot from Boone's spine and pulled him to his feet. As soon as Boone was upright, he withdrew his blade and held it to Graham's throat. Graham did not waver.

"Boone."

No response. Six could feel the animosity pouring from Boone's very being.

"Boone. We need him."

"No," Boone was practically steaming. "We don't."

"Wouldn't you rather see Caesar fall?"

Boone scowled and peered over his shoulder. "What does it matter? We kill Caesar, and some other asshole is just going to rise to power."

Graham spoke. His voice was still. "Lanius? No. I've never met any man, other than Edw-…Caesar, that could lead the Legion. I certainly couldn't. The Legion dies with him."

"Does that mean you'll help us?" Six asked, hopeful.

"You help me to end this Scourge on Zion. You help me to exact the will of God…and, should I live to see the Mojave, I will help you to end the Legion."

"And why should I believe you?" Boone growled.

"After the First Battle of Hoover Dam, Caesar had to make an example of me. He had me burned alive and thrown into the Grand Canyon."

"So I've heard."

"I want to have my revenge. Against him…against Caesar. To make my anger God's anger…"

Boone's face, mere inches from Graham's, contorted with resentment. He narrowed his eyes behind his shades. "This isn't over. You and I…when this is all done. We're going to finish this."

Graham narrowed his eyes in return. "Until then…" He pushed forward, with enough force to cause the blade to break the bandages…and his skin. Blood trickled across the blade's surface. "Kindly sheath your weapon."

* * *

Boone sat in silence in the shade of a large pine – a burning fire before him – staring out over the wilderness. Zion was so different than the Mojave, which consisted mostly of desert sand. Zion reminded him of his time stationed at Lake Mead…at the old House Resort. Though, even the resort failed in comparison. The grass, the trees. Zion was peaceful…almost peaceful enough to make his worries melt away. Boone felt a presence emerging from Joshua's chambers behind him.

"You knew he was here?" Boone's voice was stoic.

"Here? No. I suspected he was in New Canaan." Six replied.

"Because that's what Caesar told you?"

"Yes."

Boone shook his head. "You're on good terms with Caesar, are you?"

Six rolled his eyes. "Seriously? House sent me back…he knew we rescued Benny. Hunting down Graham was my punishment. He has an old flame, okay? What was I supposed to do? Laugh at him, tell him that his leverage was useless? So what? He could go after someone else? You? Vee? Cass?"

"And your solution is to use Graham?"

"Can you think of a better solution?"

"You could have filled me in."

"Maybe I should have. But talking about personal shit wasn't exactly high on my priorities right now, Boone. You of all people should understand that."

Boone didn't reply; instead, he turned his gaze back to the wild expanse.

"Look, I'm not saying you have to like it. And I'm not telling you to two to get along. But I believe he can help us. Whatever qualms you two have…you can work out later. After Caesar's no longer an issue…" Six shrugged. "But for now…The enemy of my enemy…"

"Is my enemy's enemy," Boone interjected.

Six sighed and leaned back against the pine. He studied the sky for a long moment, then noticed movement at the cave entrance. It was Follows-Chalk.

"Joshua wishes to speak with you," The tribal spoke nervously.

Six gave Boone a slap on the shoulder and began towards the cave. "I can trust you can't I, Boone?"

Boone grunted in response. Six disappeared into the cave.

* * *

The gauze around Graham's neck was red with blood…if only very slightly.

"I have a couple syringes of Med-X if you're interested."

"You are kind to offer…but no. I learned a long time ago that I'm immune to the effects of chems…Your friend…he's seen dark times, hasn't he?"

Six really didn't have an answer. So he responded with a shrug.

"I can tell…familiar demons. We all go through periods of darkness. In such times, we can turn to the Lord, but it's good to have friends."

"The Lord?"

"Yes," Graham motioned for Six to join him at his table – so he did. "I am a New Canaanite…my people believe we are the heirs of a spiritual tradition given to our ancestors thousands of years ago."

"And what exactly does this tradition entail?"

"A covenant with our Lord, God, to honor his laws."

"What laws are those?"

"Simple laws. Abolishing theft, adultery, untruth…murder."

"I'm sure your record is unblemished."

"I make no claim to innocence. I've made mistakes, as all have…I stayed in darkness for a long time."

"And your God can forgive you?"

"Yes. Although I am a sinner, I have been saved. I believe that our Lord was made flesh as Jesus Christ and died to redeem me…and you…the Dead Horses, the White Legs. Even Caesar."

"I somehow doubt that any God had anything to do with Caesar."

"Caesar would disagree. He fancies himself the son of Mars," Graham laughed. "Nevertheless, whether or not God exists, and whether or not we live according to his plan is not dependent on what you believe or on what I say. There is much to be skeptical of in this world…it no longer surprises me to learn how many people don't believe in anything."

"I believe in plenty."

"Please," Graham opened a palm. "Enlighten me."

"I believe in you. I believe in me. I believe in that man outside…and I believe he'll be the end of you. I believe in this…" Six reached down, scooping up a handful of soil. He let it trickle between his fingers and back onto the earth.

"Ah…" Graham nodded. "I know it may be hard for you to accept, or to even understand…but in my heart, I believe that there is something beyond this soil…the rock we live on. The air we breathe. Something more that is waiting for us…and a day will come when our Lord returns to judge us all. Until then, we must honor his laws and start others along the path of salvation…if we can."

Six sighed…another religious nut…perfect.

Graham must've recognized the exasperation on his face. "I do not intend to convert you to my ways…"

"That's good. Because I don't think you'd have much luck."

Graham chuckled. "And your friend, how is he?"

"He'll survive."

"In a world filled with misery and uncertainty, it is a great comfort to know that…in the end…there is light in the darkness. For many of us, the road we tread is a difficult one. But, the path is always there for us to follow…no matter how many times we may fall."

"You sound like you've fallen a few times."

"More than a few. Every day…some days are…harder than others."

"Why take such an interest in his well being?"

"I pray for the wellbeing of all good people who enter Zion…even gentiles."

"That's kind of you," Six's voice was a slightly more caustic than he intended.

"I suppose we should get to the point, then?" Graham suggested. "The truth is, you've caught us at a rather…inconvenient time. The White Legs, as I have explained, are a continual threat. One that we cannot take lightly."

"I'd noticed."

"In the best of all possible worlds, they would leave us in peace…but they won't. They attack anyone who isn't one of theirs…they take what they need to survive. They can't do it on their own, so they have to raid. But it goes deeper than that…they are here to wipe us out. All of us."

"And these tribes can't defend themselves?"

"The Dead Horses are capable…but outgunned. The Sorrows are a different story. They have many skilled hunters, but no warriors. Understandably so...Zion is their home. And they have lived in here without threat for a very long time. They have never had to deal with raiders or war…and, although they can hunt a full-grown yao guai, they don't know how to deal with the White Legs. Besides…the White Legs are here because of me. It is my duty to assist them. And even if it wasn't…one should always help where one can."

"I was under the impression that the valley belongs to the Dead Horses."

"Belongs? No. The valley belongs to God…" Graham took a breath. "But I can understand the confusion. The Dead Horses originate from Dead Horse Point, up the Colorado. They came here because I asked them to."

"That's mighty kind of them."

"I left a good impression on them last we met…They look up to me. Before I…returned to the fold, I visited them years earlier. I looked much different then."

"Before Caesar set you on fire."

"Yes. I taught them how to hunt more efficiently, how to maintain their weapons and equipment. When next I saw them, they showed their appreciation; by making me the acting war chief of their tribe. And so I brought the Dead Horses here, to assist the Sorrows."

"And this is coming from the man that massacred entire tribes?"

Graham's demeanor changed, becoming somehow colder. "In that, I suppose I am similar to Salt-Upon-Wounds. And even Caesar."

"Salt-Upon-Wounds?"

"Yes. He's the chief of the White Legs…a butcher. I know the godless fire that burns in his heart. I've been burned by it myself."

"So you seek absolution for your crimes."

"I am responsible for the corner the Sorrows have found themselves in. I must lead and protect them…they are smart people, but not as worldly as you or I. They are not capable of defending themselves against the White Legs. Daniel…a fellow missionary…wishes to evacuate them from Zion. To preserve their innocence, he says. But I fear that if they leave Zion, they will lose it forever. So the Dead Horses, and myself, are prepared to do whatever must be done to protect Zion. And many Sorrows are prepared as well. They may not be warriors…but this is their home. And they are willing to defend it."

"And you want our help too?"

"Whether or not you want to help or whether or not I want your help is not the point. I believe God has brought you here for a reason."

"Caesar's the reason I'm here."

Graham shrugged. "Perhaps. But then…it may all be a part of His plan. In any event…if you want _my_ help, you'll have to help me in return."

"Fair enough. What would you have me do?"

"As we speak…Daniel prepares the Sorrows for evacuation."

"And you want me to dissuade him?"

"No. If the opportunity should present itself, I would not argue with you for doing so. But even still, we must be prepared to flee if necessary. In order to do so there are certain…items…we need. North-west of here there is a long-standing general store. The supplies we need can be found there. Follows-Chalk knows the way. He's…inexperienced, but he's resourceful. Take him with you. When you've retrieved the supplies, deliver them to Daniel at the Sorrows' Camp."

"Just out of curiosity…why do all of this for a bunch of tribals?"

"Are we not all tribals? We wear more clothes…we fancy ourselves more civilized. But the issue at hand is not whether or not they reason, or whether or not they can talk…but whether or not they suffer. They are tribals, but they are human. And to walk away now…we would be condemning them through inaction."

"It's hard to believe you're the infamous Legate."

Graham's eyes shone with remorse. "I have much to atone for."

* * *

_So hopefully I've capture Graham's character pretty well. And...even more so...I hope to have captured the animosity between him and Boone. I'm going to try to get the next chapter out soon...but lately I've been spending all of my free time playing around on Borderlands 2. Then...in a couple weeks...Resident Evil 6. I'm absolutely stoked about that game. I threw in a little Bentham and Mill in Six and Graham's discussion...for those of you unaware, they're the classical utilitarians. If you caught it...kudos to you._

_Be sure to let me know if I need to work on Graham's portrayal though. He's my favorite character, and I'd hate to screw him up. I think I did pretty well...but I have an ego, so I tend to think that way about everything.  
_

_Until next time!  
_


	4. Chapter 3: The Father In The Caves

_So, some strange stuff has happened in the game. For some reason beyond me, the White Legs are all non-hostile. I can literally run up and click on them. They still fight the Dead Horses and the Sorrows, but they pay no mind to me at all. I've read a little bit about it online...seems like it's happened to a few people. And at least one says they couldn't finish the DLC when it happened...so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I don't have to start the DLC over. Of course, if I do, it's really no big deal._

_I've been suffering from a bit of writer's block this week...I just couldn't think of what I wanted to write about. It took me a long while to get into the flow of it. I didn't want to post anything I wasn't pleased with...so I made you guys wait. Hopefully this writer's block passes soon. It's a pain in the ass._

_I was thinking of including a few flashback scenes here and there for Randall Clark in the future...or of writing short piece entirely on his character. Let me know which you all would prefer. If you want me to include him in flashback sequences, like I did Sinclair and Vera in Aces & Eights let me know. Or...if you'd rather Clark gets his own story entirely, let me know. Be aware though, if Clark gets his own story I likely won't write it until the 18 Karat Run series is completely finished._

_Anyway, Enjoy._

* * *

"So I finally get to explore all the places the elders think are taboo?" Chalk's voice was near ecstatic.

Six laughed, casually nodding. "Pretty much. Graham wants us to pick up some supplies…"

"Yes!" Chalk excitedly interrupted. "The things we need will be at the general store. Come! I'll show you." Chalk scurried off quickly. The Mojave Trio fell in line behind him.

During their trip back from the Sierra Madre…Boone had said little to nothing. There were times, even in the Mojave, he would go days without saying a word. Which is why Six found it strange that this silence, in particular, was getting under his skin. Boone hadn't said anything to him since their _discussion_ about Graham…and that had only been a few hours before. Still, this silence was different. All consuming. Colder.

"What do you think about this Graham character, Boss?"

Raul's words pulled Six from his thoughts.

"I'm not sure yet, Raul."

"He has quite the reputation, that's for sure. He says he couldn't lead the Legion…I'm not too sure about that." Raul traced his thumb and forefinger across the mustache perched on his upper lip.

"People change though."

With a grunt, Boone quickened his pace. Leaving Six and Raul to their discussion.

Six continued. "I mean, I'm a pretty good case, right? From what I've been able to gather…I worked with some bad people before my…accident."

"You're working for some arguably bad people now, Boss."

"Caesar?" Six shrugged. "Not working _for_ him so much as I'm working towards removing him from the equation."

"I don't know, Boss. I don't really have a problem with the Legion."

"No?"

"People tend to see them as an invading band of marauders intent on massacring and pillaging the countryside…but I've been to Arizona. Before and after the Legion. Back then, it was a nasty place…so thick with raiders that you couldn't trade with a town two miles up the road."

"And now?"

"From what I understand, Boss…Arizona has stability now. It's safe. If it had been back when I was living there…it would have saved me a lot of grief and spared me some old wounds. Caesar's laws aren't nice, and their actions aren't always pretty. But neither am I, Boss, but you still keep me around."

Six laughed to himself. "I don't know, Raul. I mean…the roads may be safer, but the Legion takes what it wants. At least with smaller raider tribes you can fight back. With something as big as the Legion…they'll roll over anyone that stands in their way."

"Maybe…" Raul shrugged. "But many would argue that the safety the Legion provides is worth the means to get there."

"Safety? Sure, so long as you don't cross Caesar or you're not a woman," Boone's voice was filled with spite. "You might want to have a look at this."

Six made his way past Boone and towards Follows-Chalk, who had taken a knee and was looking down into the canyon.

"See this?" Chalk motioned towards the canyon – the remains of a long destroyed bus littered its floor. "This is why your own two feet are better than any cart. Whether they're pulled by animals or move on their own."

"What's so impor…" Then he saw them. The impaled bodies of the Happy Trails Caravan Company. Dismembered. Bare. Bodies separated from heads. Their glassy eyes staring into the bus. "What the fuck…"

"The White Legs," Chalk replied. His voice despondent. "Why do you think they're looking into the cart?"

"I don't know," Six answered. "But I aim to find out." Six made his way around the crevice until he found an area he could reasonably traverse, then began his descent; occasionally losing his footing. Red bits of rock splashed into the water below.

He was waist deep in water now, holding his holorifle high above his head. When he had made it to the bus he stopped and peered inside. It was Jed. Bound. Gagged. Barely breathing. Unconscious. But alive.

Behind him he could hear the descent of his comrades. He eerily stepped towards Jed when a hand caught his shoulder. It was Boone.

"I don't like this," Boone's voice was barely audible. He ventured silently into the bus – pistol drawn and low. Like a cat, he observed his surroundings. Then he was next to Jed. He knelt beside him and cautiously gave him a onceover.

"He's been poisoned," Chalk whispered. "The White Legs use the sacred datura root to make lethal venoms." He pointed at a large laceration along Jed's shoulder. The skin around the wound was a combination of purple and red. Infection had set in. "We need to get him back to the Dead Horses camp. The shaman's there…"

"We're not moving this man," Boone cut in. "He's laying on a mine."

"Fuck…" Six shook his head. "Even if we could cure him…"

Boone finished Six's trail of thought. "He's not going anywhere."

Follows-Chalk's eyes widened. "You can't…You can't leave him here."

Six looked up at the tribal…a boy really. His eyes shining with sympathy. "No. No we can't…Chalk, you take Raul and go on ahead to the general store. Boone and I will catch up in a bit."

Boone looked up, almost in protest – but stopped when he saw Chalk's face. "Yeah…I can disarm the mine. We'll take him back to your camp."

Follows-Chalk seemed to lighten up at this thought. He nodded energetically. "Of course!" He turned to Raul. "Come friend. This way." He quickly disappeared from site.

Raul followed suit. Stopping a moment to lay a sympathetic hand on Six's shoulder. "You're alright, Boss."

Six and Boone sat in relative silence for a long time. Until Six was sure that Follows chalk was out of earshot. With a deep breath, Six looked at Boone. "Do it."

Boone stood a safe distance away from the man. He raised his sidearm and took aim. After a long beat he lowered it again.

Confused, Six tilted his head. "Something wrong?"

"No," Boone swallowed and took aim again. After a moment of silence, he held his breath…and fired. The shot echoed throughout the canyon. Six couldn't be sure…he may have imagined it…but for a moment, he saw the man of iron falter. As Boone took aim, his hands were shaking.

They buried the corpses of their comrades in the valley - beneath the red rock - in unmarked graves.

* * *

"For as long as I can remember, the elders of the Dead Horses have thought the places of the Old World were taboo. Doesn't seem very dangerous to me."

They were inside the ranger station, just north of the general store. Searching for supplies.

"I mean…" Chalk observed the bodies of the bark scorpions he and Raul had dispatched upon entering. "Outside of…natural threats."

Raul smiled kindly. "So, amigo…" He motioned to Chalk's tattoos. "What are those markings for?"

"The Dead Horses commemorate our hunts with tattoos. When a hunter takes a great beast…or when a youth goes on his first hunt, he gets a tattoo."

"Ah…" Raul rubbed his chin. "History writes of similar things done by tribes from long before the war…Hell, even after the tribes disbanded and gangs took their place."

"Joshua says that tribes are linked families. That even more civilized groups are tribes."

"Does he?" Raul nodded briefly in agreement. "I guess I wouldn't argue with that. You look up to him, don't you?"

"Yes. I was very young when I met him first. He was different then…prouder. Harder…crueler. I was terrified of him. But when he came back, I couldn't believe it was the same man. He was no longer a destroyer…but a protector. He was more humble…if it wasn't for Joshua, the Dead Horses would still be the whipping boys of Zion."

"The second time you met him…that was after he…_left_…the Legion."

"Yes. He was no longer servant to the man called Caesar. His master banished him after his loss to a tribe called Enseeyar."

Raul chuckled softly. "Enseeyar?"

"Yes. The sunset people," Chalk scooped up a dusty, broken compass. He blew on the surface and frowned.

"Let me have a look," Raul reached for it.

Reaching it to him, Chalk continued. "His master was in a dispute with these sunset people over a dam…why two civilized tribes fight over something as small as a dam, I do not know."

Raul looked up from the compass briefly. "Small? You've obviously never seen the Hoover Dam. It's as big as many of the mesas here."

Chalk's eyes widened in disbelief. "No? Really! My gods! That's incredible!" He smiled to himself. "I long to see the civilized lands. When I was a boy, a man came through the valley with one of the caravans. A tall man with a big mustache, carried a guitar. The interpreter told me he was a traveling singer. When I asked what that was, the man explained that he went from place to place and sang to people. They gave him food and shelter and care in return."

Raul sat his hand on his revolver – ivory grip with a silver finish. "Yeah, I think I know the one you're talking about."

"You do?" Chalk's voice nearly squeaked with excitement. "Then you know! I could hardly believe that there was a place in this world where a man could do what he does…so I promised myself that one day I would explore that land for myself."

Raul sighed. "You might find, when you're out in the world…it's not as civilized as you'd hoped."

Chalk sank a little at the thought. "Still…I would like to see it for myself."

Raul nodded considerately, then held up the compass. The needle spun and pointed north. "Here you go, kid."

"Excellent!" He stuffed the compass into a li'l scout lunchbox, along with a pair of walkie-talkies. "Now, all we need is to find a medical supply kit…we should be able to find one at Ranger Station Osprey a little ways from here."

The door behind them creaked open. "No worries…" Six entered, rummaging through his pouch, and withdrew a Doctor's bag. Stuffed inside it was an assortment of stimpacks, antivenom, surgical tubing, and other supplies. "I've got you covered."

"Great!" Chalk's grin stretched from ear to ear. "That's everything! Now the only thing left to do is to get these supplies back to Daniel at the Sorrows camp!" Then more timidly, "Were you able to save your friend?"

Six looked away from Follows-Chalk...he understood and responded with a sigh. "We did everything we could…Where is the Sorrows Camp…" Six stopped. Across the room, above the fireplace were three teddy bears. On one of them was a rattan cowboy hat…not unlike the one ever present on the head of Cass. Six bit his lip and made his way across the room at a snail's pace. He removed the hat and rolled it over in his hands. Then looked back at the teddy-bear. It was unremarkable, much like the other two that sat above the fireplace on either side of it. But something caught Six's eye. Wrapped around its neck was a petite silver chain necklace. On it was an pair of engraved rings. He carefully took the necklace and examined it closely – thinking back to the rose pendant around Cass's neck and the pitiful wire that it was attached to.

"I think she'll love it, Boss."

Six cast a glance over his shoulder and at Raul. He gazed back down at the necklace for a long moment then placed it within his pocket.

* * *

They traveled south upon exiting the ranger station, past the general store until the path forked ahead of them. Then east until they reached the river.

"It'd probably be safer to stay close to the river," Chalk suggested. "We'll travel north here until we reach the Sorrows camp."

Chalk took point, with Boone close behind him. The group walked in relative silence. They hadn't traveled far when white paint along the rocks caught Six's eye. Over a dozen handprints decorating the canyon wall. Marking the entrance to a cave…

Six peered into the depths of the cave…

"What'd you say these markings were for?"

Chalk followed his gaze. "The white ones mark holy places. Taboo still…but not the same as the old places. This is Cueva Guarache…"

Six cocked his head to the side and turned to the group. "Let's do some exploring."

The inside of the cave was dimly lit by glowing fungus. Follows-Chalk would periodically stop to gather it. "The cave fungus has many herbal uses…" He explained. "We'd be wise to gather some of it."

"Have at it," Six said, waving his hands. They ventured further through the narrow corridors. They eventually came upon a fork…though one path was covered with brush. Six pushed through it to find a locked door. After a few futile attempts at picking it, he elected to go back the other way – deeper into the cave system. At the next junction he paused. "Well whi-gahhh!"

He was ambushed; a snarling green man…beast?...was on him. Frothing out the mouth, stinking of sap and mold. Boone stepped forward quickly, punting the creature with his boot – connecting firmly on the side of its head. It rolled off Six and leaped back to its feet. Raul quickly drew his sawed off shotgun and fired – spraying bodily fluids across the cave wall.

"Holy…what in the fuck…" Six struggled to his feet. "What the hell was that?!"

"Plant people…they have been here as long as I remember…"

"Christ!" Six dusted himself off. Six stepped forward, but Boone grabbed his arm. He raised a single hand to his mouth, hushing Six, then pointed. In the cave, not twenty yards from where they stood was a plant swaying silently.

Six cast Boone a confused stare.

"No wind…" Boone explained. He fumbled around the cave floor, lifting a small stone. Then chucked it at the plant…it's mouth opened and snapped shut; completely devouring the stone.

"You're shitting me…" Six raised a brow.

Boone took aim and fired, tearing through the plant's stem. It toppled to the ground and convulsed violently for a moment. Then went silent. Deeper inside the cave they fought off a number of the creatures. At one point one of the plants spit at Six, covering his armor in a viscous slime. The odor was horrid.

"You're lucky," Chalk chimed.

"Yeah, I get that a lot…"

"If that spit had hit you in the face, you'd have gone blind…" He explained. "It's highly toxic."

Before long they reached what seemed to be an old camp site. Strewn about were a variety of supplies – grenades, mines, ammunition. The group collected the bulk of it. Then something caught Six's eye…the familiar flicker of a computer terminal. The terminal was in surprisingly good shape – drawing power from two fission batteries beneath the desk. Boone knelt beside some makeshift bedding and began to rummage through an old duffle bag.

Six sat at the terminal. He flipped through the entries…almost a dozen of them. About a woman named Sylvie...pregnant, stillborn…both dead; a boy named Alex; vault dwellers…coughers, the entry called them; the great war, how it failed in comparison to fatherhood; A strange name…Char?...how the author had failed her; the prospect of ending it all.

Six sank in his chair. "This stuff is intense…"

Raul peered over his shoulder. "Life is rarely forgiving, Boss."

* * *

By nightfall they were in the Sorrows camp. It had long since started raining. Upon reaching the camp they were greeted by a woman – shaved head, wearing a blue cloth loincloth with a matching top. She wore an adorned feather neckpiece. Wielding a fearsome gauntlet.

"You are the one Joshua Graham has sent to us."

Six raised a brow. "Word travels fast…"

She smiled kindly. "Joshua sent word ahead that you would be here soon. Blessings of the Father in the Caves upon you."

This again. "Right. The…Father in the Caves."

"Have you not heard of the God of the New Canaanites?"

"Some."

"The Father in the Caves is our protector. Our judge. He helped our ancestors to find our place here in Zion…He gave us many gifts, but asked that we do not seek him out. His caves are forbidden to us…as are the places of the old world. Those who seek them out are lost to us."

"That…doesn't sound like the same God Joshua explained to me…"

The woman smiled. "Perhaps you do not fully understand the New Canaanites…Daniel awaits you. He can tell you more than I…but alas, the moon is high in the night sky. You should rest. Please, follow me."

* * *

_So a couple things I wanted to note. As some of you may have noticed I've added an additional piece to the 18 Karat Run series. Focusing entirely on Joshua Graham and his backstory. Now...I was discussing with Vect the character and he brought up something interesting. I do not intend to have Graham wearing the SWAT outfit he's wearing in game while he's in the legion. Even if word of God is that's what he wore...it doesn't make sense to me. Particularly since it was caught on fire...yeah. So I'm going to be giving him a different armor. But Vect brought up the notion that Graham wouldn't wear armor like Lanius's armor...and I agree. It would be too heavy, bog him down. Originally I was going to put him in the Armor of the 87th Tribe...because it's just badass. But yeah, I agree with Vect. So my question is...if he's not going to be wearing the SWAT outfit, what should his signature armor (pre-burned man) be? Or should I go ahead with the Armor of the 87th Tribe?_

_There was something else...but for the life of me I don't remember what it was now. Oh well. Until next time.  
_


	5. Chapter 4: Stairway To Heaven

_So, before we start...I briefly mention the mission River Monsters (where you deal with the yao guai in the cave). But I didn't want to call it the "yao guai cave"...because that sounds pretty lame. Instead, since it is near Pine Creek...I decided to call the cave Pine Creek Caverns. Just to clear up any confusion._

_Also...something that really bothered me about the whole Honest Hearts DLC...you're helping them so you can get back to the Mojave. They act as if you need a map...but the whole reason Jed wanted you to go with them was because you have a pip-boy...which has a map built in. So I tackle that in this chapter (doesn't explain the plot gap in the game...but it explains it for the story)._

_You might also notice that when they reached the Dead Horse camp, I went out of my way to mention that there were children. I also did that because it really bothered me that there wasn't any. The reason there wasn't any is mentioned...they've been evacuated. But if they've been evacuated...why do I need to get a map of the Grand Staircase to help him evacuate the others? It doesn't make sense to me. So I'm going to be doing a little something with that...I won't spoil it, but you'll see soon enough.  
_

_Anyway, enjoy.  
_

* * *

Despite the fact that the water was fresh and clear – Six found himself missing the Mojave. He missed a lot of things, but particularly he missed being dry. Between the intermittent rain and the lush river valley, he often found himself hanging his duster out to dry…when it wasn't raining, of course. Perhaps you can have too much of a good thing…

The group followed the woman back the way they came, along the winding riverbed, up an incline and into a cave…Sweet Flower Cave, she called it. The inside of the cave was spacious; large enough for a trio of tents along the south wall. Pale moonlight shone through cracks and gaps in the cave's roof. Water dripped through…luckily there were no gaps over the tents. A number of skeletons had been stowed away in the north eastern corner, out of sight, and a campfire – complete with makeshift tripod and cooking pot - decorated the middle of the cave.

The inside of the tent was lined with makeshift bedding…dried hay and twigs. Six grimaced…the Lucky 38 had spoiled him. The woman motioned to them…

"You may sleep here for the night. None of my brethren have used it since the Mole Rat incident…the cave goes further, but I'm afraid there isn't much to be found. The rear entrance to the cave collapsed some time ago," She turned to the campfire. "There are provisions in the tent…beans, gecko eggs, and a variety of smoked meats. When Joshua sent word that you were to come here, I saw to it that the cave was stocked with fresh food."

Six smiled at the woman. "You're too kind."

She returned his smile. "I will inform Daniel of your arrival. Until we next meet."

With that, she made for the cave exit – leaving the group to situate themselves. After a rather mediocre meal – although a step up from the MRE's Boone had been toting around, it still failed in comparison to the delicacies of the Strip – Six folded his duster across the top of the tent and somehow managed to find sleep.

He awoke to the smell of frying eggs and gecko meat – stumbling out of the tent, he found Graham seated quietly by the fire pit. Six rubbed his eyes and sat across from him.

"I fear your friend still has little trust of me," Graham spoke softly. "He left a while ago with Follows-Chalk and the ghoul at Daniel's request. To evacuate Zion we must pass south, near Pine Creek Caverns. The area is infested with yao guai…Daniel has asked them to eliminate the threat."

"Why didn't they wake me?"

"You were exhausted. You do not sleep peacefully."

"I sleep well enough."

"Of course," Graham laughed. "In any event, did you gather the supplies?"

"Yeah…" Six responded. "In a scout lunchbox in the tent."

Graham nodded, seemingly pleased. He stood and walked to a nearby crate. From within he removed a few plates and eating utensils. He ambled back to the fire and removed the cooking pan. After a moment he reached a plate to Six, who graciously accepted it. Then he returned to his place by the fire.

"So explain something to me…you seem well educated. You seem like a genuinely good person. What the hell possessed you to work with Caesar?"

"A series of small mistakes before a great fall," Graham parted his bandages slightly. His eyes winced in pain. He leisurely began to pick at his food. "I was born in Ogden…what people now know as New Canaan. My childhood was quaint, peaceful. As a New Canaanite, I was taught, as all missionaries are, varying dialects and languages of the land. When I came of age, I was sent out into the world to do God's work. I traveled along the Long 15 and followed 89 south into Arizona. It was in Arizona that I met two men from a group called the Followers of the Apocalypse."

"I'm familiar with them."

Graham scratched his forehead and continued. "Caesar was known as Edward back then…Edward Sallow. He was traveling with a man named Bill Calhoun. Calhoun was a good man…and, at the time, I believed Edward to be also."

"So you knew him before he became Caesar."

"Yes. They were doing missionary work of their own…in a way. They came to teach the tribes to be self sufficient…and Edward, a linguist, was sent to study their dialects. Seeing as I was already familiar with the dialects, I elected to travel with them. To teach Edward what I knew. We decided to hike into the Grand Canyon to talk to the Blackfoots. When we did, we were greeted kindly…they were friendly enough, at first. But…" Graham swallowed and shifted his gaze momentarily from the fire and towards cave ceiling. "I've thought back to that day so many times…something must've gotten mistranslated. The Blackfoots decided we weren't going to leave."

"Ransom?"

"I'm not entirely certain. What I do know is that Edward decided to _help_ the tribe. The tribe was at war…and they were losing. Edward saw this as an opportunity and taught them how to maintain their weapons, advanced military tactics, demolitions…_Divide et impera_. He taught them to attack their weakest enemies first. Divide and conquer. Then introduced the tribes to total warfare. Before long, he became more than teacher. He became their leader – he became Caesar."

"And he used you. For translation."

Graham nodded lightly. "This way lies the path to hell. Things evolved…translation became giving orders. Giving orders became training…which in turn became leading. Punishing…" He paused, taking a deep breath. "…terrorizing. Power changes people. You lose sight of who you were. Who you are."

Graham trailed off a long time…losing himself in the flames before him. "When I failed Caesar at the Battle of Hoover Dam…he tried to execute me…I'm alive today because the fire that burned inside was brighter than the fire that burned around me. I fell down into that dark chasm, but the flame burned on and on. Do you know what that fire inside was?"

Six didn't answer.

"It was love. The love of the New Canaanites. God's love…I was baptized twice. Once in water. Once in flame. '_I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God...__'"_

"Galatians 2:20," a voice from the cave entrance said. Six turned towards the source – Graham did not. He simply nodded.

"Daniel," Graham greeted the man. "Please, have a seat. Help yourself to some breakfast."

Daniel, followed by the woman that had greeted Six the previous night, did just that.

"Joshua, you remember Waking Cloud?"

"Of course."

"And this is?" Daniel asked, motioning to Six.

Six extended his hand and introduced himself.

"You're here for the supplies?" Six asked. "You'll be happy to know we found everything on the list."

"Well I'll be…" Daniel laughed, shaking his head. "I was starting to doubt we'd be able to get any of it…much less all of it. The tribals have a difficult time letting go of their taboos…It is difficult for Joshua or I to find time to scavenge for supplies. Looks like all it took was the touch of a gentile…" Daniel's enthusiasm quickly faded. "Or…uh…What I mean to say is…"

"No worries," Six said, holding up a hand. "No offense taken."

"You should have more faith in your fellow man, Daniel," Joshua jibed.

"In any event, these supplies are a godsend…" Daniel was hesitant to continue.

Graham laughed. "This is the part where he asks you for further assistance. In order to _evacuate_ Zion…" Graham shot Daniel a glare. "We'll need a map of the of the Grand Staircase."

"But…where we'll find one…" Daniel began.

Six, laughing, shook his head. "You people and your maps…do you think my group stumbled into Zion by accident? I don't need a map to get back to the Mojave. It's as simple as the twist of a dial."

Graham studied Six for a long moment. "If you didn't need our assistance to return to the Mojave…"

Six cut him off. "I never said I needed help getting back. You assumed it. You know why I'm here…" He smiled. "The good news is, we don't need to find a map…" he tapped his pip-boy. "We need to find a printer."

* * *

"Stone Bones Cavern," Graham's voice was as chilling as the breeze flowing out of the mouth of the cave. "When Daniel and I first arrived at Zion, I explored the caves around the Narrows…it is always good to know your surroundings. Especially in times of war."

He began towards the entrance. "Mind the traps…follow closely. I disarmed a great deal of the traps, but still more may remain." Six fell in line behind Graham and they traversed deep into the cave. The air swept through its cracks and crevices – recreating the eerie howl on the night of the ambush.

"There are a number of caves across Zion," Graham continued, "But some of them hold particular significance. They are marked by the Sorrows. The white hand prints on either side of the entrance, did you see?"

"Yeah. Chalk pointed the same thing out to me on other taboo places."

"Other taboo places have red prints as well. The caves are holy…hence they have only white. They mark the caves of Randall Clark."

"Randall Clark?"

"Yes. A survivalist from just after the Great War. I have not read all of his journal entries…but I have read a fair number of them. He used this cave as well…come, this way." Graham guided Six through the winding cavern. Before long they ventured into an open area – stocked with assorted supplies, munitions, and tools. Including a bed roll, a work bench…and a terminal. Six hurried past Graham and to the terminal. He flipped through the screens on his pip-boy before settling on the map. Then he scrolled through to the Grand Staircase region. He linked the pip-boy to the terminal and began the process.

"You're sure this will work?"

"These terminals have basic printing capabilities built in…some of them anyway." Six began flipping through the journal entries; hungrily absorbing more of the story of Randall Clark. He had just finished with the last entry when the terminal beeped in protest. He checked his pip-boy.

‹**Printing Error›**

"Fuck…"

‹**Code: 800A0046›**

Six turned back to Graham, "This isn't going to work…but Clark wrote here that he was ambushed. Went to a cave south of here…doesn't say which, though. I imagine out of the Narrows…he was worried about being followed. What's the closest cave to the south?"

"And out of the narrows?" Graham searched his memory. "Cueva Guarache."

Six shook his head. "Already been there…that terminal is being run by a couple of jury rigged fission batteries. It's in bad shape…any other?"

"…Ah. Morning Glory. Just west of North Fork Bridge."

"Then that's our next stop." Six stood, as he did something caught his eye – a set of armor, closely resembling his own. He stuffed it into his bag.

Graham chuckled softly.

"What? Not like he needs it," Six defended himself.

"You speak the truth," Graham acceded. "I'll talk to Daniel. I'm sure he can spare a scout to accompany you."

* * *

"Waking Cloud is my name. I am midwife to the Sorrows," The tribal woman smiled at him. "It sounds ill-omened, no?"

"I'm sorry?"

"…'Midwife to Sorrows'…" She repeated.

"Ah…" Six nodded. "Yes, I suppose it does. Well Waking Cloud, I'm…"

"Six," She cut in. "I remember. Daniel has instructed me to guide you to Morning Glory Cave…" her voice sounded discontent. "Is this pleasing to you?"

"You don't have to, if you'd rather not."

"No…I do not mind. It's just…The Morning Glory Cave belongs to the Father. We should not profane it with our touch. The Holy Father punishes those who trespass into his sacred grounds."

"I understand…Look, you don't have to accompany me into the cave. But I need to investigate it. It may be our only shot at getting your people safely out of Zion."

Waking Cloud frowned. "Daniel is a wise man…he has asked me to keep you safe. If that means traveling into the forbidden areas, then that is what I must do."

Six smiled at the woman. "Please," he motioned for her to take point. "After you."

They traveled south quite a ways. Waking Cloud moved like the wind…or as she put it, like moonlight on water. They passed several scouts and parties of White Legs who were never the wiser to their presence. Six wondered if Boone and Raul were having such luck. Of course…something told him that between the two of them, their group would be okay.

When they were clear of enemies – which Waking Cloud seemed to be able to sense from insane distances – she spoke. "Six…do you have a family waiting for you in your lands?"

"Family?" Six shook his head, briefly thinking back to Cass. "No…no I don't."

She smiled. "You will one day."

"And you?"

"I do. A fine husband and three children…I miss them dearly every day, but take comfort in knowing that they are safe."

"Safe?"

"Yes. Daniel sent them in the first evacuation…"

Six raised a brow...

"When we learned that Salt-Upon-Wounds had defiled Zion with his presence, Daniel ordered the evacuation of many. I was away…scouting the valley for the herbs I use in my medicines."

"You're a doc…a, uh…_healer_ then?"

"Yes. I tend to the hurts and sickness of others. Six years ago…during the birth of my third child, the river nearly carried my water to the Father…and my child's with it. Daniel attended that birth…he stepped in and saved both my life and the life of my child. I asked him to teach me the ways of New Canaan's medicine…so he did."

"You seem to be fond of him."

"Daniel is a wise man and a great friend…he has taught my tribe much. He has taught me much. He taught me the language of the New Canaan…the ainglish from the holy books."

Six grinned…her accent was charming in a way. "Holy books?"

"Yes…the books the Father in the Cave brought to the New Canaanites after the End That Came in Fire. The books are written in the sacred tongue of the New Canaanites. The Father in the Cave punished the world when the Sorrows sinned against him…made us forget the holy tongue." She paused, "The Morning Glory Cave is on that ridge…come."

* * *

The Earth shook violently beneath them. The cave entrance toppled and collapsed filling with rock, dust, and debris.

"Whoa…" Chalk struggled to keep his balance. "The fire clay of the New Canaanites isn't something to be trifled with, eh?"

Raul smirked. "No, kid. It's not."

They traveled west, along Route 9. They were about to venture off on a trail leading north – towards the Sorrows Camp – when Boone stopped. He raised his rifle and peered through the scope. Further west, along the road, was a platoon of White Legs.

Boone grunted. "Do they normally travel in groups so large?"

Chalk followed his gaze. His eyes widened at the sight. "No…no they don't."

Boone scratched the stubble around his chin, then turned to Raul. "Head on back to the camp. Warn them…something's going down. I'm going to go have a look."

"Be careful, cuate."

Boone wandered from the road – electing instead to use the wilderness as cover. He quickly – and quietly – navigated through the brush. He found himself sitting atop a rather large rockface…judging from the sun's position…just north of an old bridge. The bridge was littered with White Legs; tents peppered the river's southern bank. He lay flat, peering through his scope. The White Legs were planting traps…bear traps, mines. Digging pits to fill with stakes. The Dead Horses would pass right through here…

He could see a man barking orders – adorned with a fearsome helmet. "That," he thought aloud, "must be the infamous Salt-Upon-Wounds…"

To the south-east, along the ridge he could see a ranger station. Dead Horse prisoners were being marched into it.

"Oi! Halten no te donde! Stay!"

Boone flipped around to see a duo of White Legs charging his position. He stood – greeting the first one with a hard right hook. As the next one charged him, he fell to his back, planting his foot into his attacker's sternum, flipping him off the precipice. Boone quickly made his way to his feet and began his descent. A sound of thunder filled the valley – Salt-Upon-Wounds shoved a rifle into the hands of a nearby tribal – Boone fell to the ground, holding his thigh. The White Legs chief strode confidently towards him, cracking his knuckles. The powerfist on his hand decorated in war paint…

Boone struggled to his feet. The bullet had grazed his thigh…nothing serious, but enough to keep him from running. He fumbled for his side arm, but the White Legs drew their own weapons – taking aim. Boone halted…cursing under his breath. Salt-Upon-Wounds stood before him and ordered his subordinates to disarm him. They happily obliged. The chief paused a moment, examining the bowie knife…then tossed it to the ground at Boone's feet. Boone looked at it, then back to the tribal.

"You fight," He spat. "You fight well…you might live."

Boone took a breath and reached down for the blade. Salt-Upon-Wounds charged immediately – as Boone expected he would. Boone rolled to the side and swept his legs out from under him. The man stumbled forward and face-planted into the ground. Boone dove forward and planted a firm boot into his opponent's gut. The chief cried out in agony and rolled away, struggling to his feet. Before he could stand, Boone hit him with another fearsome kick. He fell to one knee. Moving in for the kill…Boone felt a fierce pain in his side. He looked down to see the red wrapped handle of a throwing knife. He pulled it out and tossed it aside. He stepped forward, then stopped. His vision pulsated. His legs grew weak.

Salt-Upon-Wounds struggled to his feet. He marched indignantly towards Boone, planting a firm punch into his gut. Boone gasped for breath and stumbled backwards. Something held him up…he could see what…his vision was blurred and his mind foggy. But he could guess…whoever had thrown the knife.

One of the tribals held him…lifting him to face his attacker. Salt-Upon-Wounds tilted his head to the side…

"Hijo de hundin…"

Boone felt the force of the powerfist as it smashed into the side of his head. Then nothing.

* * *

_Okay, I know that there's nothing to suggest the terminals have printing capabilities...but there's never any printers around in the Fallout world, yet there are always posters and fliers, and documents...so I figured what the hell, I'll take some creative liberty. So that's what I did.  
_

_So I'm diverging a little bit from my original outline for the story...but when I have an idea I like, I just kind of go with it. We'll pick up the next chapter soon...I know I have been sidetracked lately, but blame it on Borderlands 2...and next week Resident Evil 6. Yeah...I'm going to go ahead and apologize in advance. But I'm excited as a school girl at a Justin Bieber concert for that game. I played the demo...it was different, but I enjoyed it._

_I'm also kind of taking it slow on these chapters. I really want to adequately capture Joshua Graham...and I'm doing my best to capture the animosity between him and Boone...and the depth of his character...without fucking it up. Hopefully, I'm doing that well enough.  
_

_And as far as the delays between chapters go...just bear with me. When I beat Borderlands 2 and Resident Evil 6, things will pick back up again. At least until Assassin's Creed III comes out...Then Dead Space 3 next year...yeah. I'm a horrible person for making you all wait, but I can't help myself.  
_

_I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Until next time.  
_


	6. Chapter 5: Happy Shall He Be

_Aaannnnddd...we're back! Sorry for the delay, but I've been busy these last couple weeks taking a much needed break. I had written myself dry and I wanted to take some time to focus on Resident Evil 6, which - by the way - was fantastic. I've read a lot of negative reviews...but critics are idiots. The game is phenomenal, I really encourage those who haven't already done so to give it a chance._

_A couple things on the agenda for this rant...first off...I've designed some armor for Graham, and my nephew will be drawing it out for me. It's a combination of the Courier Duster (with Legion Bull) and reinforced leather armor. If his drawing turns out like I've envisioned it, I think it will be a crowd pleaser (hopefully). Second...the chapters for THAS will all be around 3,000 words. I know you all want nice long chapters...but the storyline and dialogue in Honest Hearts doesn't exactly give me as much to work with as the main game. So I'm pushing for 3,000 words per chapter...sometimes I might have a little more, sometimes a little less...but hopefully the content of the chapters doesn't disappoint. If there's something you'd like to see me tackle or include, feel free to let me know though, as always._

_I think the break has really done me good...I really like this chapter and I'm taking a few risks. Please! Let me know what you think of this one! I've poured a lot into it._

_Oh! And one other thing...I was doing some recon in my attic...because it's a warzone up there...and I ran across an old script I wrote for a drama class in high school. I'm a horror buff...and Freddy vs Jason had just came out so I was super stoked about it. So the script I wrote was Freddy vs Jason vs Michael...and the title wasn't too catchy. I'm thinking of uploading it a little at a time though if I get some interest. It's finished (thought I might do some revision). If you all would like to see it, give me a shout via pm or comment...I'll make it a weekend project, upload it a little at a time. It's surprisingly long for an early venture._

_And now, what you all came for!_

* * *

"So tell me about that gauntlet," Six requested curiously. He and Waking Cloud were following the Virgin River, headed back to the Narrows.

Waking Cloud examined the crude weapon strapped to her wrist. "A Sorrow's yao guai fist is sacred…each Sorrow makes his own, but only after undertaking a quest of great importance for the tribe."

"How did you get yours?"

Waking Cloud smiled. "I have earned my rites many times – thanks to Daniel. The knowledge of New Canaan medicine that he has passed on to me is beyond precious. I have learned to make medicine from herbs and roots around the valley, I have served as midwife to many in my tribe...and in neighboring tribes alike."

"So your tribe is on good terms with the neighboring tribes?"

"Oh, yes. We were friendly with many tribes throughout Zion and the neighboring lands, when they would travel through. We have had dealings with the Crazy Horns, Iron Lines, Rail Nomads, and the Twin Mothers…to name a few."

"Where are these tribes now?"

"They come and go as it pleases them. Zion is home to us, but also to many precious resources. Clean water. Game. And herbs…" She paused motioning to an islet situated between their position and the narrows. "Up ahead is the Caterpillar's Mound…atop of which I often gather Xander roots, an excellent medicinal plant. I could show you, if you'd like."

Six thought back to his night with Sunny. She'd tried so desperately to get him to gather Xander roots…and…some type of flower or other. "That's okay. I've never been one for alternative medicines." After a beat he continued, "Where'd you get the paw?"

"Why…from slaying a yao guai, of course."

Six's expression must have staggered, as Waking Cloud chuckled to herself.

"You are surprised?"

"I guess I shouldn't be…but it just seems a little impossible."

Waking Cloud eyed him quietly for a long moment. "It may seem so…but you may find I am a woman of many talents."

"Of that there's no doubt…" Six grinned. "You said they were sacred?"

"Yes. The Dead Horses have their markings and their war clubs. The more distinct the markings – the more exceptional the club…the more sacred. We have our…" She struggled for a moment, "gan-ta-lets…is that what you called it?"

Six's nose crinkled in mirth. "Close enough."

"If you are interested in them…perhaps you should talk to our shaman, White Bird. He oversees the rites. I can take you to him, if it pleases you."

"I'd like that." In the distance he saw the familiar silhouette of Raul's sombrero. Six laughed to himself…still amused by the old ghoul's choice of attire. Following Raul, Six could make out two other figures – Follows-Chalk…and another, emerging from the Narrows. At first, Six assumed it to be Boone. But as they grew nearer, he stroked his bearded chin…that's something else he missed…he needed a shave. And a haircut. Six withdrew his binoculars and peered through them. The third figure was Joshua Graham. Six felt his stomach turn over. Something was wrong. Very wrong. "Fuck…"

* * *

Suddenly aware, Boone sat up. He traced his hand across his aching forehead – finding crude stitches where once a wound had been present. Why had they stitched him up? His eyes bounced across his surroundings.

"Utman lie still…" A voice told him. Boone followed the voice…his eyes still adjusting the bright day sun, he could just make out a figure on the other side of the bars of his holding cell. A woman. A White Leg. "Salt-Upon-Wounds bring utman here…to await urtiel…" The woman examined Boone's look of confusion, then clarified. "…to await judgment."

Boone grunted and struggled to stand. He pushed himself off the ground clumsily and grasped the rusted iron bars. His eyes began to adjust and he mechanically traced the outline of his cell. Several others were with him…all much too weak to be of any real assistance. Dehydration…starvation. They were barely alive. The bars were weak…given the right amount of force in the right areas…

"Utman lie still…" The woman looked worried. "You lose blood. Weak. Must rest."

Boone sneered. "What do you care? I'm just waiting to be executed anyway."

The woman observed him with a look mirroring his own confusion.

"Execution…" He repeated. He brought his index and middle fingers up to his temple and mimicked a gun firing. "Death."

The woman frowned. "Ex-a-cue-shun…maybe. But now, you live. Lay."

Boone shook his head apathetically and did as he was told. The woman turned towards the remnants of a fire…smoldering embers. Atop the embers sat an old cooking pot. Strewn across the ground were cans of cram, beans, and boxes of Salisbury steak. The woman rationed out the contents of the pot – beans and diced cram, then distributed it amongst the prisoners. Boone realized, then, why the people were still alive…

"How long have you have you been caring for the prisoners?"

"How…long?"

"Yes," Boone stroked the bridge of his nose…"Uh…how many moons?"

The woman frowned again, shoving a plate in Boone's direction. "Many, many moons."

Boone amiably accepted the plate, though he was not hungry. He sat it aside and observed the woman. "What is your name?"

She looked at him again.

"Name?...What do they call you?" Boone gave his chest a pat. "Boone."

"Boone..." She gave her own chest a pat. "Kurisu."

"Christ…you're just a kid…" Boone took a deep breath and leaned back against the bars, staring out into the midday sky. "Kurisu…why am I here? Why am I alive?"

She looked at him sympathetically. "You live…Salt-Upon-Wounds not want you dead…not yet."

Down the path, Boone could see the familiar helmet of the White Legs chief marching uphill – towards them. The woman stood…whether out of respect or fear, Boone couldn't tell. As her chief grew closer, she cast Boone one last wary glance, and he knew in the pit of his stomach his end was near.

* * *

"Scores of them…" Graham said, his voice stern. "We need to clear that bridge." He jabbed his finger into the screen of Six's pip-boy. "If they're moving now, we need to act quickly."

"And your solution is for the five of us to go in guns blazing?" Six asked hesitantly.

"Four."

"What?"

"Did you get the map?"

"Yeah," Six pulled the rolled up paper from within his duster. "One map of the Grand Staircase…"

Graham immediately scooped it up and pushed it into Waking Cloud's chest. "Take this to Daniel. It is imperative that it reaches him."

Waking Cloud shook her head. "No…I will go with you. Daniel has asked me to watch Six…"

"Look," Graham grasped her hand and pushed the map into it. "I know Daniel trusts you…and I know you look up to him. But right now, I need you to take this map to him…if we're going to start this evacuation, we need to start preparing _now_."

Waking Cloud stared at Graham for a long moment and finally nodded. "I will do as you ask, Joshua Graham. But I place my duties in your hands. You must make sure no harm comes to this man…it is Daniel's wish."

Graham's voice softened. "Waking Cloud…you have my word."

"Well, this is great and all, Jefe…but Six has a point. We can't take on the entire tribe by ourselves."

"I don't see any other choice…not if we're going to get your friend back," Chalk chimed in.

"If he's even still alive," Graham sighed.

Six dismissed the thought quickly. "You're assuming he's been found. You don't know Boone. He's resourceful."

"You're right, I don't know Boone…but I know the White Legs. If they've found him, we don't have long."

Six cursed under his breath. "There's simply no way we can waltz in on our own…can't you send for backup?"

"The Sorrows aren't equipped or trained for this kind of assault…the Dead Horses…" He turned to Chalk, "Go to the camp. Follow the river…_stay out of sight_…we won't have time to wait. But if you hurry, you might be able to sweep in for the _coup de grace _after we've distracted them. God willing, we'll live to meet again_."_

Chalk nodded and quickly scurried off.

"And what? We're just going to sneak in, find Boone, and hope they get there on time to save the day?" Six shook his head. "This is suicide. We wait for Boone…let him give us a proper briefing and we go in at sundown and wipe them out with the help of your tribe."

Graham took a deep breath…it was almost a snarl. "You're not following me. Your friend is in danger. The Sorrows are in danger. The Dead Horses the same. We end this here. We end it now!" He pushed his index finger into Six's chest. "Now you can sit here with your thumb…"

"May I speak?" Waking Cloud interrupted.

Graham turned his fiery gaze in her direction.

"If the White Legs have set up a war camp, then they will have totems erected around the tents…The white Leg warriors pray to them for strength…if they were to lose their totems on the eve of battle, they will see it as a terrible omen. They would lose their will to fight."

Graham's demeanor changed. His voice became less angry. More calculated. "Yes…we'll use their superstitions against them…"

"And how do you expect us to get into their camp unnoticed, Jefe?" Raul's voice was littered with cynicism. "It's not like we exactly blend in with them."

"No, you cannot…" Waking Cloud spoke softly. "But I can."

* * *

The group lay flat…atop a rockface that Boone would be all too familiar with. Six peered through his binoculars, watching astutely as Waking Cloud slipped between the tents, amongst the oblivious tribals. The sun had begun to set…still there was no sign of the Dead Horses.

"So far, so good…" He said quietly, more to himself than his comrades. He swept the area for any trace of Boone. "I'm not seeing him anywhere…"

"There…" Graham pointed to the ranger station. "If I were holding prisoners, I'd hold them there. My bet…that's where we find him. If we find him at all."

Six grimaced. "Do you think this is going to work?"

Graham shrugged. "Right now, it's the best option we've got."

Six swept his binoculars back to the tents. Waking Cloud had vanished…so had the totems. The brush rustled beneath them.

"Boss…" Raul took aim. "We have company…"

A long beat. Silence.

Waking Cloud emerged, totems in tow.

"Like taking the water off a fish's scales." She smiled, joining the group on top of the rockface. They waited in silence, watching the group. At first, they didn't seem to notice…but once they had, distress flooded the camp.

"Now we move in," Graham touted. He disappeared over the embankment, pushing towards the river. The others followed closely behind him. They made their way south, quietly…then doubled back, up the hill towards the ranger station. Six could just make out the pale glow of a recently extinguished fire. Graham withdrew his pistol – checked the chamber and slide – and held it at the ready. The pale glint of the moonlight reflected off its barrel. They could see the station now…the rusted gates below it swinging lazily with the breeze. The creak of metal on metal. The station was deserted…save a single body, lying in wait…in the center of the cell.

Six bolted ahead of the group, "No no no…"

Then stopped. Waiting for the rest to catch up with him.

"Boss?"

"It's not him."

"What?" Graham was upon them now. He could see the body, lying limply – breathing shallow. "Follows-Chalk…" Graham rushed to the tribal's side, lifting his head gently.

"Josh…" Chalk gasped for breath. "J-J-Joshua…please…for…for…"

"Quiet now," Joshua's voice was low and flat. "Don't speak."

Chalk's breathing was quick paced. Fast, shallow breaths. Strained. "Boo…Boone…alive…they took him…to…to…"

"Shh…we'll find him." Graham took a deep breath and laid the boy's head down. He reached into a pouch in his vest and withdrew a cylindrical object. He began to gently twist the object into the barrel of his pistol…a silencer. "Peace be with you, child." The muffled sound of pistol fire. Then silence.

Graham stood slowly, eyes never leaving the body of the tribal.

"What the hell was that?" Six's voice broke the silence. "He knew where they took Boone!"

"Yes," Graham shot back. His voice guttural and livid. "And so will one of those Godless bastards in the encampment." He stepped forward, his eyes practically burning a hole through Six's skull. He shoved a worn rifle into Cloud's chest – _ARRET_ etched into its stock. "Anyone who comes up this hill…" his voice was level again. Waking Cloud quickly nodded. Then to Raul, "Make your way back to the northern rockface."

Graham then turned his icy gaze to Six. "You're in this tower. We take no prisoners…save the last one standing. They will deliver us to your friend." He removed the silencer on his pistol, checked the clip…then the spare clips attached to his belt.

"You can't be serious?" Six shot back. "We can't take on this entire camp…"

Graham's voice became irate. "'_By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. Remember, O Lord, the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem who said, 'Raze it, raze it, even to the foundation.' O daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed. Happy shall he be, that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us. Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth they little ones against the stones.'_ Do _you_ know what it means?" He was practically growling.

"…What? No…"

"The White Legs didn't just force my people out of New Canaan…no, they butchered them. Everyone who wasn't fast enough to get away…the elderly, the ill, the children. Those who stopped to help the wounded…it made no difference to them!" Graham was struggling…trying to keep from screaming. "They can't be reasoned with! Daniel doesn't understand! You don't seem to understand! Even if we leave…they won't stop! They'll follow us to the ends of the Earth! We _must_ fight back!" Graham was breathing heavily; he pressed his index finger and thumb over his eyes. "What it means is that those who do the work of the Lord…no matter how brutal…find happiness. They find peace. Zion belongs to God and to the people of God. It is a natural temple and a monument to His glory! When our Lord entered the temple and found it polluted by money-changers and beasts…did He ask them to leave? Did He cry? Did He retreat or walk away? No! He drove them out!" Graham clenched his fists and brought one before his chest. "It is one thing to forgive a slap across my cheek…but an insultto the Lord…_an attack on the Lord's people_…it requires…_it demands correction_." His breathing slowed…he became more calm. "Daniel and I both desire a peaceful resolution to this conflict…where we differ is that only one of us believe it's possible. Go. If you must. You don't have to be here…but I am prepared to do what is necessary to protect Zion and its people."

Six took a breath and nodded to Raul. "We're with you."

Raul returned Six's nod and disappeared over the ridge swiftly. Graham, without a word or warning, turned and trudged back down the hill towards the camp. Six quickly made his way to the top of the tower. He reached for his rifle…stopping momentarily and choosing his holorifle instead. He peered through the night vision scope. He could see the White Legs in panic, trying to pack up their camp. Unaware of Death personified striding on his black horse in the form of the Burned Man. He could see Graham now, stepping swiftly from one tent to another. He'd raise his pistol and fire with incredible speed and accuracy. The White Legs were unprepared. Unarmed. Across the river he heard the crackle of Raul's rifle. Waking Cloud watched in horror at Six's side.

Graham didn't miss a beat. His work was seamless. Mechanical. Flawless. He pushed forward; fired, dropped a clip, loaded another, fired again and again. They were flies…they were all flies, dropping around him. Six timed his shots carefully. He fired. The sound of the gun made Waking Cloud jump. The burning ball of light shot across the darkness – ripping a hole through air and man alike.

Graham reached out, grasping one of the White Legs by the neck, spun him around and used him as a shield as the others began to try to fight back.

It had all started so swiftly. Before Six was aware of what was going on. And it had ended just so. Dozens upon dozens of bodies littered the ground around them…how many had he taken out? Ten? Twelve? And Raul? …Graham? And how many had scattered into the hills? Of all there...it couldn't have been more than a few.

He turned to Waking Cloud. She gripped the rifle, eyes wide with terror. Six attempted to pull the rifle from her grasp. She held it tightly…so tightly it drained the color from her hands. Six paused, looking at the woman. He raised a hand, tenderly stroked her arm, and pulled her towards him. "Cloud…"

She swallowed, but didn't answer.

"Give me the rifle…it's over."

He pulled the rifle from her grasp…though not without difficulty. He could see she was scared. Horrified by the events that had unfolded before her. He pulled her close and held her in the dark. He could feel her trembling in his arms. Now he knew why Daniel wanted to evacuate the Sorrows. They were untainted…they did not know the art of war. And this was why she was afraid. She was strong…but she had never seen anything like this.

Or maybe it was he that was trembling? He had never seen anything like this, either.

And he finally understood. This was why Caesar had sent him here. Sent him here as punishment…or maybe, given Six's past, hoping for another miracle. This was why Caesar wanted Joshua Graham's head. This wasn't the gentle Mormon that had greeted him upon his arrival at Zion. This wasn't the man that had held the hand of Follows-Chalk as he lay suffering, waiting for death.

This was a man possessed.

This was the Malpais Legate.

This was the Burned Man.

This was the right hand of a vengeful God.

Six felt terrified…he didn't care to take a life. He'd do what was necessary to save his friend. He knew that Boone would do the same for him. It was him..._This_ was Joshua Graham…and Six was _terrified_ of him.

* * *

He could feel his feet dragging. His body limp. He could hear, but couldn't see, people around him. Their voices echoing off the canyon walls…or perhaps that was just the result of his injury. His vision would come to briefly…then it would fog over and fade out. Every time he blinked, he was in a different place.

"We bring man to Flag-Bearer…"

"This is not the man you were sent for," a coarse voice, sounding of grinding stones, shot back.

"This man come with caravan."

Boone struggled to open his eyes.

"Caravan…"

The voice faded out. Boone felt himself falling, crashing to the ground. He commanded himself to rise…demanded that his arms push himself up. His mind willing, but his body unable.

"…he travels with the Courier then. I suppose that shouldn't surprise me."

It was the hoarse voice again. Raspy. Deep.

Silence again, save the ringing of his ears. Then another voice…Salt-Upon-Wounds. "…kill man? Tribute to Flag-Bearer!"

Another: "Yes! Kill utman!"

"No. The Courier will come for him…and he will bring the Burned Man to our doorstep. Put him with the others."

"The Burned Man…" Salt-Upon-Wounds spat. "He kill my people at bridge. We go now…end the Dead Horses. End Sorrows."

"Soon."

"Now!"

The coarse voice sighed. "You'll go…when _I_ tell you to."

Boone found strength. If ever slightly. He coerced his head from the ground, centimeters perhaps…he forced his eyes open. He could see Salt-Upon-Wounds. He could see the woman that had cared for him in his cell, her eyes shining with some mixture of pity and fear. And he could see a figure faintly…old world flag on his back.

* * *

_And that's it for this chapter. I've hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's good to be back in the game...you can expect more regular updates now. A couple a week at least._

_Someone said I needed to show a bit of Joshua's anger...well, he didn't have a reason to show his anger. Until now.  
_

_Until next time!  
_


	7. Chapter 6: That Blind Drive Onward

_This chapter was difficult to write. I've actually gone back and redone the outline for Through Hardships and Sorrows. Storywise...the DLC is pretty bland. So I'm really pushing myself to write something that remains true to the tone of the DLC while simultaneously giving you a story that's interesting._

_I'm not 100% sure on this chapter...I like it, but at the same time, I'm not too sure I'm taking this in the right direction. So let me know what you all think. Do I need to continue to revamp the outline, or do you like the way this is going?_

* * *

She was stumbling through the brush – scraping by the occasional cactus. She could still hear the gunshots. She was afraid to turn around…had she been followed? No. No – the cries of her friends…of her family was testament to that. The attackers were still at the camp. Shots rang out; people screamed. She stumbled into the river – the water burned her legs. Of course it would…they were covered in lacerations, wounds. She could barely see anything…

She didn't know for how long she ran, but when she caught up to her comrades the moon was high in the sky. They were escorting the prisoners…the man in the red beret was amongst them…being dragged along the winding river bed towards Three Marys. They were taking him to meet the Flag-Bearer. They stopped when they heard her splashes. When they saw her rushing towards them in panic.

Salt-Upon-Wounds stepped from within the crowd. "Kurisu!"

She stumbled, losing her footing, toppled into the water, but quickly regained composure…pulling herself onto her knees. She was out of breath. Her body ached.

He reached for her, lifting her to her feet. She gasped. Her eyes shone with terror. "Atmen! What pasò?"

She did not reply.

He shook her, near violently. "Mujer! Sagen!"

Still nothing.

He shook her again. "Speak!"

She grasped his arms, her eyes found Boone. She stared at him…he brought them here. The demons. "Let utman belassen!"

Salt-Upon-Wounds cocked his head to one side. "Free utman? Por qué?"

"The Divolo!" She answered…voice trembling and eyes wide with fear. "Burned Man! Diavolo bring hell-feuer!"

* * *

Graham paced around the man…watching him contently. The bodies of his tribesmen littered the ground around him. But Graham had left him alive…barely so, but enough. Incapacitated by a single shot to his abdomen… he lay there; clinging to life and unable to aid his people. Unable to escape. Six and Waking Cloud descended the crag behind them.

"This one!" Graham yelled. "…He will tell us where to find our people!" Graham pressed his heel into the wounded man's stomach, causing him to cry out in pain. Then flatly: "Won't you?"

The tribal responded in kind – by spitting a disgusting brew of saliva and blood into Graham's bandaged face.

With a sigh, Graham withdrew his pistol and struck the man with it. The tribal cried out in pain – his lips curled into a frown.

"This will either end with you alive…" Graham pulled the slide on his pistol. "Or with your untimely demise. And, honestly, I don't care which. You just need to ask yourself whether or not this is a cause worth fighting for."

Defiantly, the tribal man stared. His body was quivering in some mixture of pain and fear. But still, he did not speak.

"I see." Graham took a breath. "I wonder…would your chief do the same for you? Or would he feed you to the wolves?" Graham cocked his head to the side and studied the man. "Truth be told…" Graham peered over his shoulder – Six and Waking Cloud were nearly there. He leaned close to the man and whispered. "…it doesn't matter if you tell us. Because I will scour every inch of Zion. It doesn't matter to me if I find your people in a day or a month. But I will find them…and I will end them."

Graham pressed the gun into the tribal's neck. "Now tell me what I want to hear!" The silence consumed him. Graham's eyes shined with fury. His snarling voice became a scream. He stood erect and roared from the top of his lungs…"Agghh!"

"Wait!" Six bellowed over Graham's anger. He was nearly upon them now. The tribal looked up at Graham fearfully, then towards Six. His eyes bold, yet, somehow, still pleading – not for help, but for mercy. Six looked down at the man. "I believe this will require a more subtle approach." Six knelt down next to him, "What's your name?"

No answer. Just intermittent, agonized, panicked breathing. From the north, across the bridge, Six could see Raul emerging from the brush, headed towards them.

He lifted one of the tribal's hands – holding it gently. "You understand me, don't you?"

The man remained hushed. They waited in that uncomfortable silence for a long moment.

Six took a breath and stood – he rummaged through his bag, withdrawing a single roll of duct-tape. He tossed it to the approaching Raul and gestured towards the nearest tent. "…tie him down."

"Alright, Boss." Raul grabbed the wounded man's ankle and dragged him into the tent. The inside was mostly barren – save a bit of bedding contrived of hay and brushwood, a single white table, and a set of weathered, rusted metal chairs. Raul cupped his hands under the man's arms and lifted him into place – then began to methodically strap him to the chair. His arms to the chair arms…his back the chair's back…so forth. Outside he could hear Graham and Six discussing something…though only intermittently. When he was content, he made his way back out into the open.

"…was inexperienced, but he was a good man. A boy really." Graham's voice was quiet. Remorseful.

"Well, again…I'm sorry for your loss," Six sympathized.

Graham nodded and stared out into the distance. "Let's just make certain his death was not in vain."

"Boss?" Raul interrupted. Six turned to him. "You're up."

Six began towards the tent...his walk was slow, hesitant. When he entered the tent, the first thing he noticed was the look of surprise on the tribal's face. "You were expecting Graham?"

The tribal swallowed.

"No. Graham is very good at killing…good really doesn't begin to cover it. But interrogation requires a certain finesse. It takes more than the fear of death to make someone talk. I've been on both sides of this, you see?" Six traced the scars along his head. "I didn't say anything either. But…I've seen people talk. I don't remember much of my past…but I remember it well enough."

Six took hold of the remaining chair, flipping it around and positioning it in front of his captive. He sat in it, slouched forward, head resting on his hands – elbows resting on his knees. "I was in a situation similar to this, believe it or not. Not too long ago…" He scratched his bearded neck and continued, "See, I was a courier…amongst other things. I was hired to make a delivery…an insignificant little trinket. A poker chip…one of six couriers hired, or so I've been told." He let his eyes wander to his bag, to the faded number from which he had conjured his moniker. " The job seemed simple enough…paid good too. A thousand caps. Things are never so simple though, you know? I was ambushed just outside of a little town called Goodsprings…you wouldn't know it was there if you saw it. Couple of thugs…you may know the group, the Khans? Anyway, they were following this jackass in a suit. Knocked me unconscious…bound me, gagged me. Just like you are now."

The tribal swallowed, his eyes never leaving Six.

"You're probably wondering why I'm telling you all this. Point is…when they captured me, I knew I was done for. I didn't want to die, but I made up my mind then…whatever they did to me, I wasn't going to tell them shit. I was dead anyway, right? I may as well take my secrets to the grave with me. Only…they didn't want to talk. When that fucker took aim at me with that handgun of his…I didn't plead, I didn't beg. I accepted my fate. Just like you. The thing is…he didn't want information. So he didn't care. But…" He reached into his bag and rummaged for a moment – when his hand emerged he held a ball-point hammer. He laid it on the table near the tribal. "…I do want information, you understand? What I've found is that it's not so much the fear of death that makes people talk…as it is the pain. The…ah…the anticipation."

He turned back to the bag and reemerged with a bonesaw. He sat it gently across the table.

"People see a gun pointed at them…it doesn't bother them. They'll be dead soon enough, right? But if you take your time, it's different."

He laid out an iron and a hot plate.

"When they know it's going to hurt…"

A combat knife.

"…a lot. It's a different story."

Straight razor.

"You don't need to ask yourself whether or not you're going to talk…"

Wrench.

"…Because you will."

Cattle prod.

"They all do…" A scalpel, "…eventually." Six moved towards the man. He brought the scalpel to his face, observing it closely. He twisted it in his fingers…then presented it to his prisoner. "I'm not going to lie to you…you're not going to enjoy this."

Six grasped the man's index finger, snapping it backwards. The man squealed in agony…then his eyes widened. He watched Six slowly bring the scalpel to his hand...and press it under the nail.

* * *

Salt-Upon-Wounds was irate. No…more than that…he was enraged to the point of madness. "The Burned Man…" He spat. "He kill my people at bridge. We go now…end the Dead Horses. End Sorrows."

The Flag-Bearer looked at him blankly. His face unmoving. His eyes unblinking. "Soon," he responded.

No…Salt-Upon-Wounds would not allow his people to be massacred. Not for Caesar. Not for the Flag-Bearer. "Now!"

The Flag-Bearer sighed heavily. "You'll go…" He stepped forward, standing tall. His eyes locked with the tribal's own. "…when I tell you to." In his peripheral vision, he saw Boone struggling to focus – he turned to Kurisu – trusting, bloody, and dearly broken Kurisu. "Take the prisoners into the cave. We'll deal with them when the time comes."

She looked towards Salt-Upon-Wounds.

"Do not look at him. I gave you an order."

Her eyes quickly fluttered away from her Chief and back towards the Flag-Bearer. She swallowed.

"Do as Flag-Bearer orden," her chief directed.

She made for the cave – prisoners in tow. Being herded like sheep by her brethren. Save Boone, who was limply being dragged across the valley – through water, mud, and sand alike. Deep in their valley…near where the Courier and Boone had first been encountered…was the cave the Flag-Bearer had spoken of. The trip was short. When they were in the cave, Kurisu had the prisoners chained along the wall.

She sat in silence for a long time. Watching the captive Dead Horses and Sorrows. And Boone. She watched him most of all. There was something strange about the man…something she didn't quite understand. He didn't seem to mind the situation he was in. As if, on some level, he expected it. He had struggled briefly when Salt-Upon-Wounds attempted to transport the prisoners from the ranger station to Three Marys. Well…that was probably an understatement. He didn't struggle…he fought. Easily removing two men from the equation. When he got to her, he stopped. That hesitation gave Salt-Upon-Wounds the opening he needed…and left Boone in the unconscious state he was in now.

When the other prisoners had drifted into slumber, Kurisu edged closer to the man. At an arm's length away, she reached out – tugging at the beret that fit snugly on his head. She twisted it between her fingers, taking it in. She studied the emblem on it…some type of animal skull. And rifles…like the ones they had found in the armory the Flag-Bearer had led them to.

Her thoughts were disrupted by a grunt. She looked past the beret and at the shaved head of Craig Boone.

"Awake?"

Boone drew a deep breath. "My beret, please." She cocked her head to the side and observed him. He looked up at her – his arms bound. "My…hat?"

The tribal woman looked back down at the beret and lulled over it for a moment before finally returning it to its resting place. She sat in front of him, mere inches away.

"Boone," she said finally, pushing her palm into his chest. Boone looked up at her. She repeated herself – "Boone."

"Yes. Boone." He affirmed – then he nodded his head in her direction. "Kurisu."

Her eyes wandered over him for a long minute, then she smiled a faint smile. "Avido?"

Boone raised a brow.

"Avido…" She paused, searching her thoughts. "Bia? Must eat." Kurisu stood, making her way across the cave. She poked around through a container and returned with a can of cram and an old fork. She peeled the lid back and pushed it towards him.

"No thanks."

"Boone must eat. Weak." Kurisu dipped the fork into the cram and again pushed it towards him. This time, Boone obliged. His hands were bound, so she fed him.

"Why are you helping me?"

She pressed her lips, but didn't respond. When she had finished feeding him, she sat the can aside and returned her gaze to him. Again she found her mind wandering. Something about him set her on edge. She was uncomfortable…and, somehow strangely not. He hadn't attacked her…even though doing so would have secured his freedom.

Movement at the cave entrance pulled her to. It was a fellow White Leg. "Too close to utman. Back."

She immediately did as commanded. She had learned long ago not to cross the male members of the tribe. To do so was foolhardy, and potentially fatal. The tribal looked over the prisoners before finally deciding on one…he grabbed a female Sorrow from the group and pulled her to her feet.

Kurisu stood. "Where sei you toma gefangene?"

"Flag-Bearer."

"Por què?"

The tribal smiled at her. "Muerte."

Boone didn't know much of their language…it seemed to be a medley of a few languages. He didn't recognize most of it…but this word he knew. Death. He watched the male White Leg drag the woman out of the cave, then turned his gaze towards Kurisu. Her eyes were already on him, wide in despair – full of fear and pity.

* * *

"I'm sorry for your loss, Jefe."

Graham wiped down his pistol and turned his eyes towards Raul. "Chalk was a good man. And a child of the Lord, as we all are. I appreciate the sentiment."

"He kept you in high regard," Raul said, his voice somehow full of understanding and sympathy.

"I know," Graham admitted. "I wish he hadn't. I am not exactly fit to be the role model for any of these people. I wish more had looked up to Daniel…or, at the very least, had someone more worthy of their affections."

"You're not so bad," Raul smiled. "You've made your mistakes…but we all have."

"You speak the truth. But, oftentimes, I fear my mistakes are beyond penance."

Raul shrugged. "I don't know, Jefe…I've seen a lot of things in my day. You know, Chalk…he wanted to…"

A scream cut through the darkness, breaking the silence. A cry of agony. Of despair. Six's work.

Raul waited for the silence to return. "Wanted to see the world. He didn't want to be confined to this canyon his entire life. He dreamed of adventure."

Graham laughed to himself. "I know…it's been some time since I've visited…civilized lands." He swallowed, turning his eyes towards the stars. "I don't have fond memories of them…but I have always seen them from the outside. I wish…" He took a breath. "I wish he would have met you sooner. Someone like you. Or Six. Anyone that could give him the answers…the guidance he needed. That person wasn't me. Now I have to go back and tell his people…his woman…that he's gone. That I have brought yet more blood and death to them."

Another blood chilling scream. They waited for silence.

"That's not entirely true…I lived in Arizona a time before the Legion. People can say what they will…but I know how it was. I lived out in Tuscon…not Two-Sun…for close to a century. This girl came into town…Claudia. She reminded me of a life I had long forgotten. She reminded me a lot of someone I lost a long time before then. She ended up working at one of the brothels in town…and I looked after her, in my own way. Like I said though…"

The distinct muffled sound of gunfire.

Raul continued. "..this was before Caesar – before you – pacified Arizona. One of the tribes came into town one day…more a gang, really. They wanted bullets…I figured if I sold them some, they'd leave without roughing up the town too much. Instead, they decided to stop at the brothel to take off the edge. One thing lead to another…should have expected as much. But by the time I heard the screams, it was too late. They shot the place up…killed four girls with my bullets. Took Claudia for sport." Raul sighed. "Maybe if you all had come through back then, things could have been different. Maybe I wouldn't have had to track them down…maybe I wouldn't have found Claudia with a bullet in each eye. Maybe I wouldn't have had to take justice into my own hands."

"Or maybe the Legion would have killed you for your…physical affliction. And sold Claudia into slavery…for labor or breeding." Six spat. He turned to Graham. "Where's Three Marys?"

* * *

His hands were free. Unbound. He stood at the cave entrance – the sun was beginning to rise. The sky was overcast, and the air was dank and his duster wet. Rain had set it. He glanced over his shoulder at the tribal woman…Kurisu.

"Go."

"They'll kill you for helping me."

The woman smiled at him. "Flag-Bearer will protect. No harm." Then again, more firmly this time. "Go."

Boone studied the woman for a moment, standing calmly at the cave entrance. Why she had taken an interest in him, he was unsure. Boone took a long breath and held it. He turned from her and took a few steps, his rifle slung over his shoulder, his sidearm nestled in its holster at his side. Hell…she'd even returned his bowie knife. He began his ascent…he'd have to climb over the crag to avoid detection. He stopped midway and turned back towards the woman. She had disappeared back into the cave.

Boone chewed his lower lip a moment and shook his head. His voice was near inaudible…even if it wasn't, she wasn't around to hear him. But he felt compelled to whisper anyway…to send his message out into the world.

"Thanks…"

* * *

_That's it for this chapter. We'll pick up with our next chapter on Friday. See you then. _


	8. Chapter 7: When Done Righteously

_Couple of things. First - I had written out a short section for Randall here, but I've decided to do a short piece on him later. It was a lot of fun to write...so it'll give me a small project to work on after the 18 Karat Run series has had its course._

_Another thing...I wanted to be clear that the Kurisu I'm using is not the same one in the cancelled Van Buren project. I just wanted to include a little easter egg for those who really enjoy the series. The character I'm using just uses her counterpart's namesake. I wanted to clear that up if it was causing any confusion with anyone._

_Things wind down a little in this chapter...but only because it's preparing for the big stuff that's to come later. Five chapters or so left for this piece and we'll be moving back to the main storyline for a while._

_I think that's about it...so without further ado..._

_Enjoy._

* * *

"Three Marys?" Graham laughed to himself. "Of course…the scouts have reported heavy White Leg activity there. That must be the White Leg nerve center."

Six headed towards the river. He dipped his hands in the cool water – washing to blood from them. It was early, the sun had just begun to rise in a cloud covered, gloomy sky. Rain had set in…he was so tired of rain. "Yeah. That's what I gathered too. And, from what he told me…there's a significant number of White Legs there. Hundreds maybe."

Raul frowned. "No disrespect, Jefe…" he said, looking at Graham. "But I think even you would have trouble with that many."

"If only slightly," Graham replied. Six wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

Six trekked back over to the group, standing just outside the tent. Waking Cloud joined him at his side…she had been so quiet since their onslaught that he had nearly forgotten she was there. She turned her gaze towards the tent entrance, almost afraid of what she might find – and rightly so, as Six grasped her chin and turned her eyes towards him. He shook his head once, very firmly – his eyes saying what his mouth did not. No.

Waking Cloud obeyed.

"So what's the plan, Boss?"

Six curled his lips into a ball and shrugged. "I don't think we have a choice. I'm not leaving Boone to rot away as a White Leg prisoner."

"But we can't take that camp on our own," Graham admitted. "Go back to the Narrows. Talk to Daniel…I'll ready the Dead Horses."

"Daniel's not going to listen to me," Six assured Graham. "He doesn't know me…he isn't going to care what I have to say."

Graham swallowed. "No. No, he won't…" He turned to Raul. "We're not far from the Dead Horses camp. Can you make it there?"

"Not going to happen," Six answered for Raul. "I'm not letting what happened to Chalk happen to any of my people."

"You won't have to," Waking Cloud chimed in. "The Burial Grounds are not far from here…Dancing Flame will be there with a small number of my people. The area is secluded…I don't think the White Legs have found it. I will take him there…then we will travel together to the Dead Horses' camp."

Six studied Waking Cloud quietly then turned to Raul. "Do you think you're up for it, Old Timer?"

"Oh, sure, Boss." Raul's response seemed a bit caustic. "Let's all split up. Nothing bad ever happens when we do that."

Six scowled. "Right…You go back with Graham then. I'll get the Dead Horses."

"No," Raul grinned. "I got this, Boss. Seriously." He turned to Waking Cloud. "I'll follow your lead, la belleza."

Waking Cloud smiled. "Gracias, bello."

Raul smiled, he seemed impressed.

"When you reach the Dead Horses' camp, find Two-Bears. Tell him the time has come…that we'll meet at dawn. Dagger's point."

With a nod, Raul and Waking Cloud started towards the Burial Grounds.

"Raul, wait."

Raul turned towards Six. "Yeah, Boss?"

"Be careful," Six said resolutely. "And don't make your way back across this valley without a hoard of Dead Horse warriors on your heels."

"Gee, Boss. I didn't know you cared."

"I'm serious." Six's voice was somber. "And Raul…keep her safe."

Raul nodded. "With my life, Boss."

* * *

The top of the mesa was mostly barren. In some places thick red dust – a collective of broken down rock and sediment – had gathered in pools of water, creating a paste that clung to his boots. Quite a ways to the north, Boone could see a downed plane. The design was familiar…the same kind he'd seen many times at McCarran. As Boone neared the edge of the crag, he hunkered down low. He cautiously peered over the edge – he could see two camps, not unlike the ones at the old bridge. A few dozen White Legs in each.

He crept around the cliff's edge – slowly making his way southeast. The White Legs seemed to be preparing…Boone was familiar with the practice. For the most part anyway. Weapon checks; stocking ammunition; rationing and distribution of consumables; and – for those interested anyway – more idealistic practices…prayer, dread, amongst other rituals. The White Legs seemed to favor the latter practices. Particularly those regarding strange idols spread throughout the camp. Amongst the White Legs scattered around the camp, he could see Salt-Upon-Wounds pacing throughout – no doubt making sure all was in order. A simple shot is all it would take…

Boone pulled is rifle from his back – he laid flat and took aim. Each second offered a dull thud in his chest. His breathing slowed and his hands steadied. He watched carefully as Salt-Upon-Wounds made his rounds. Checking supplies, talking to his troops – whether he was chastising them or encouraging them, he wasn't sure. Likely both…Hanlon had done the same at the First Battle of Hoover Dam.

He had been there for that battle – stationed along the mountain ridge with the rest of the First Recon outfit. Picking off Legionnaires on the Dam…and later in Boulder City.

Boone purged the thoughts from his head. He took a breath and found composure – staring down the scope, he could see Salt-Upon-Wounds addressing a number of troops. Boone leveled his sights on his would-be target. Bits of perspiration mixed with the rain that dripped down his forehead. He waited a long moment – for the wind to die down. When it did, he pulled the trigger.

The gun clicked. Nothing happened.

Of course, the tribal woman hadn't given him any ammunition. Why would she? She didn't know if she could trust him. For all she knew, he would have thanked her with a bullet. She'd freed him...she had done her part. More than he could ask for really. Maybe more than he deserved.

So he had no ammunition at all…which meant he'd have to evade the White Legs – get back to the Narrows…All without being detected. But how far had they dragged him? He remembered water…being pulled across the riverbed, along the bank.

He pulled back from the edge of the precipice and studied his surroundings. The closest river flowed only one direction from here…north to south. He peered through his scope…south of his current position was their camp. Beyond that…familiar ground. Where they had first entered Zion.

North…In the distance, he could see a radio tower. Not too far from where the plane rested above the valley floor. He recognized the tower. Something like that stands out in a place like Zion. If memory served him correctly, that tower was just north of the old bridge where the White Legs had taken up camp. Just north of where he was captured.

Boone thought on it for a long moment. _If he were going to find his way back…that would be the place to start_.

Crouched low, he traversed the terrain. The cliff face was high – and he ultimately ended up quite a ways from the point of his initial ascent. He began his descent towards the Virgin River – a lonesome dock and a ruined boat decorated the western shoreline. Several other destroyed vessels littered the shoreline opposite – some green geckos had made their home within them. When he had reached the valley floor, he started north – staying close to the shoreline, but electing not to travel on it. He wanted to avoid detection, and it was clear the White Legs made use of the river. So would he…albeit more subtly.

* * *

"Christ…" Daniel rested his head in his hands, lightly covering his mouth. "Unless you have any objections, Joshua, I'd like to start evacuating the Sorrows as soon as possible."

Graham sneered. "You can't be serious…"

"Very much so," Daniel replied calmly. "We'll break camp tonight, just as the sun sets. With any luck, the White Legs won't know we're gone until morning."

"Have you ever known luck to be on our side, Daniel?"

"I'd say you can count yourself lucky."

"_Really_?" Graham's voice was abrasive. "You'd count one lucky who has to lie down each night and fight to find sleep. And when he finds it, he relives deeds done past and mistakes unforgotten. Only to wake up in insufferable pain, having to replace bandages so that infection doesn't set it…and each time the bandages are removed, it's like he was set on fire all over again. That sounds lucky to you?"

"Not at all. But a man committing the atrocities that you did and finding his way back to God, back to the people who love him and a tribe that reveres him…to have survived what you have alone…I'd say that counts for something."

Graham scowled – though no one would know it.

"We'll leave at…"

"I heard you," Graham spat. "And what if luck isn't on our side? What if the White Legs know of our pitiable attempt to flee…and they fall on the Sorrows here like they did the New Canaanites in Ogden?"

"I'm aware of the risks, Joshua…"

"Are you? Because it doesn't seem that way. You're risking…"

"I _know_ what I'm risking. If something goes wrong…countless Sorrows could die in the escape. More than if we outright fought them. But it's a risk I have to take. To preserve their innocence. To keep them from falling victim to the atrocities of war. With your help…with the help of your friends…I know we can do this, Joshua."

Graham didn't answer him.

"Joshua…you have to let go of this fire inside of you. You have to let go of your lust for vengeance…if you're ever going to find peace. If you're ever going to _change_." When Graham still didn't respond, Daniel sighed. He stretched the map out on the ground before them. "We'll go south-east, like we've discussed. Through Pine Creek Tunnel…once we're in, we'll collapse the entrance. Delaying the White Legs pursuit long enough for us to get a sufficient head start."

"Whoa, whoa…blast the tunnel? Are you serious?" Six shook his head. "That's insane. That's _stupid_. You don't know what's on the other side. Or even if you can get back out. You could trap yourselves in the tunnel."

Daniel's brow furrowed. He hadn't considered that…

"Even if the way were clear," Graham began. "You've said it yourself. Collapsing the tunnel would only delay their pursuit. The White Legs are relentless. They followed us from Ogden…they'll follow us from here. We _cannot_ run away…we _must_ take a stand."

Daniel shook his head. "_Take a stand_?" He repeated, almost in disbelief. "No. _No._ Why? For what? A piece of land? We can find somewhere else for them to live…for them to make a home of." Daniel turned his eyes towards Six, pleading. "Haven't you seen enough death?" He paused, as if waiting for an answer. When Six didn't respond, he continued. "…What Joshua wants is more than attack…he wants a slaughter."

"_An extermination_," Graham corrected. "Destroying the White Legs is the only way to ensure the Sorrows can remain in Zion."

"_It's just a piece of land!_" Daniel was getting exasperated.

"_It's. Their. Home._" Graham snarled.

"The Sorrows can't be pushed into this, Joshua," Daniel pushed his index finger in to Graham's chest. "You don't have the right to force them into it. You can take your Dead Horses and," He waved towards Six. "And…your new champions. Do this on your own."

"You don't seem to understand," Graham's voice hardened…if that was possible. "Many of the Sorrows are already willing to fight for this land. Persuasion won't be necessary."

"No, _you're wrong_. I've already explained everything to them. They know we're leaving, and they've _accepted_ it."

"Accepting something and supporting it are two entirely different things," Joshua said flatly. "When they know the Dead Horses are fighting for them, that _we're_ fighting for them, they'll join our cause. Their God lives here, in these caves. They believe he gave them this land. They'll die to protect it."

"And that's what you're going to do…lead them to their deaths. And even if you succeed…how are you going to wash away the blood that taints their hands? How will they live with themselves after they've gotten lost in the moment and killed someone who didn't deserve to die? Or does that even matter to you?"

"_They all deserve to die._" Graham growled. "You know what the White Legs did to our people. We will show no quarter to any White Leg we come across – make no mistake."

"That's murder!"

"_No._" Graham's normally calm voice rose, if only slightly. "That's justice."

The color from Daniel's face seemed to fade. His knees weak, he found himself searching for a place to sit. "How can you say that?" He fumbled with the leather bound book in his hands, hastily flipping through pages. "_'And thinkest thou this, O man, that judgest them which do such things, and doest the same, that thou shalt escape the judgment of God?'_…Joshua, open your eyes. Who are you to sentence these people?"

"I am the right hand of God. The tool of His vengeance. I shall fall like a shadow across Zion and bring death to those that would harm His people."

"Are you even hearing yourself?" He turned to Six. "Do you see now? His time with the Legion has changed him…he has no mercy to give."

Six turned his gaze away from Daniel's. He had to admit that Graham's intentions seemed less than pure. It seemed more like a quest for vengeance…less so a mission to protect Zion. But Six could understand such a quest…after all, he had tracked Benny down solely to end him. Hell…he still might.

"This is the world we live in, Daniel." Graham spoke quietly – regaining composure. "I do not enjoy killing, but when done righteously, it's a chore…just like any other."

Daniel scoffed at the thought. "This is the world we _live_ in? _This is the world we created._ The world we _brought_ to them." Daniel pointed at the cave entrance – to the tribals. "You want to call it a…a _chore_?" He sighed. "I guess that's what it is. I don't know what's more chilling. That'd you'd call it that or the fact that it's one you've gotten very good at."

Graham swallowed. "Practiced hands make for short work. We both know…the good Lord knows…there's much work to be done here."

"Maybe you're right…maybe there is no place left in this world for mercy." Daniel stood, hands clenched around that leather bound book. His voice stifling – fighting back sobs. "But even if it tramples me into the dust, I will never accept it." He took a few steps towards the cave entrance – stopping briefly to look Graham square in the eye. "And I _will never_ condone it."

Then he was gone.

With a sigh, Graham turned to Six. "Thank you for your support. I realize this may be a difficult thing to comprehend, but know that we are doing His work. The work of the Lord. _'The Lord is a man of war; the Lord is His name…Your right hand, O Lord, has become glorious in power; Your right hand, O Lord, has shattered the enemy. And in the greatness of Your excellence you have overthrown those who rose against You; You sent forth Your wrath which consumed them like stubble.'_"

Six raised a brow. "Whatever your reasons are…they're not my concern. I just hope we're doing the right thing."

"We are," Graham affirmed. "Whether you realize it or not, we are doing the work of God."

"That's really the least of my worries. I want to help these people…and I want to get back to the Mojave. When we're there…we'll deal with Caesar."

Graham took a breath. "You know the moment I enter the Mojave, the eyes of Caesar will be upon you. He will know of your failure. And he will seek vengeance. You say he had a captive…he _will_ kill her."

"That's exactly why we have to take this son of a bitch out."

Graham stood, making his way across the cave that the Sorrows had bestowed upon Six and his group upon their arrival. He found himself peering up through the cracks in the cave ceiling towards the sky. Rainwater trickled down through the cracks – a slow steady drip. The water was cool on his skin. "I am not entirely convinced that killing Caesar is the right course of action."

"Excuse me?" Six stood, he couldn't quite believe his ears. "The bastard set you on fire. He's dead set on plundering the Mojave. Making slaves and corpses out of anyone who opposes him."

"Then help the NCR to drive him from the Mojave. But his death will only bring disorder and suffering to the mid-western tribes."

"They'll find their way. Caesar wasn't always around."

Graham thought back to his conversation with Raul – then further back, to his exploits in Arizona. "You didn't see Arizona before the Legion."

"Bull shit. You know what? If you're afraid of him, fucking admit it. But spare me the sympathy act. We both know there's not a bone in your body that sympathizes with the man or any of the tribes he's conquered."

"Love the sinner. Hate the sin," Graham spoke softly. "Edward was like a brother to me. Part of me wants vengeance. Part of me would like to see the man burn for what he did."

"You listen to me," Six spat, stepping towards Graham. "You wanted my help. You got it. The price is blood – Caesar's blood."

"And what of the NCR?" Graham balked. "I am a war criminal. Even if you could get me into the Mojave without alerting Caesar, the NCR will have me tried. I'll face a firing squad…or worse."

"You leave that to me."

Graham turned his gaze towards Six. "You seem confident."

"I have my reasoning," Six assured him. Graham remained silent.

"Six?" Daniel's voice echoed throughout the cave.

"You're coming with me," Six pledged. "Alive or dead."

"Six?" Again, Daniel's voice called out.

He turned his attention to the cave entrance. "Yeah?" Six answered.

"You might want to come see this," Daniel called back.

With a grunt, Six began making his way out of the cave. Graham followed closely behind him. Daniel stood on a rope bridge connecting the canyon walls to each other. He peered south through a pair of binoculars – towards the entrance to the Narrows. Six followed his gaze.

He saw the figure of a man, walking with intent. Not so much walking as he was marching. Rifle slung over his shoulder. The familiar red beret swaying with each step.

"I'll be a son of a bitch," Six laughed. He turned to Graham, "It's Boone."

* * *

_And that's all for tonight. I would have posted this Friday, but it was far from complete. I mean...it was mostly written, but I gave it several revisions before I was satisfied. Hopefully the revisions were for the better and you all enjoyed this chapter._

_Until next time.  
_


	9. Chapter 8: Deliver Us From Evil

_So, I've decided what I'm going to start doing is updating twice a week - once sometime between Sunday and Wednesday, and again sometime between Wednesday and Sunday. This way, I have plenty of time to work on the chapters and I don't feel overburdened, and you also get two chapters a week._

_Writing battle scenes is difficult. So I tried to focus on the important things...but this battle has only just begun._

* * *

"The radio tower is here," Graham said, matter-of-factly. "Just south is the Rockville Bridge," he paused, turning to Boone. "…where you were captured."

Boone studied the map quietly a long moment – then, using a couple of stones from the dirt at his feet, he marked a point on the map. "I was held in a cave here. I climbed out of the canyon here and followed this ridgeline. There were two White Leg camps…here…and here."

Graham studied the stones' positions. "This is Three Marys…the other camps seem to be near Bighorn Bluff and the Red Gate…"

"You know the area, then?"

"Yes," Graham replied. "I know it well."

"How many White Legs were positioned there?" Six inquired.

"A few dozen…at each camp. No doubt there were more where I was being held."

"And you say a tribal helped you escape?" Graham was skeptical.

"No," Boone shook his head. "A tribal _released_ me. A woman. Left me with no ammunition...no supplies. The escape was left to me."

Graham grunted, "Still, that's unexpected…"

"How he escaped isn't the point," Six interrupted. "How are we going to handle this?"

"Yes, of course." Graham nodded. "…which camp was Salt-Upon-Wounds in?"

Boone tapped one of the stones.

"Bighorn Bluff…good. It's the most open, easiest to access. Easiest for you," Graham looked at Boone, "…to get a clean shot." He turned to Six. "We'll meet with the Dead Horses here…Dagger's Point. From there, we'll split into two groups. Two-Bears will lead the Dead Horses into their camp from the north – just beyond this bridge there's a break in the canyon walls…they can slip through, just north of Red Gate."

"No," Boone shook his head. "The bridge is the only access road to the area, right?"

Graham nodded.

"Then it'll be watched. Send them in here…near the old docks," Boone jammed his finger into the map. "They make heavy use of the river…but since you've eliminated their hold on the north, the only resistance you'll run into here will be scouts. They'll follow the shoreline south…" Boone traced the shoreline with his finger. "…from our rendezvous…have them stay low and quiet. Just around this bend they'll find a dock. It's where I made my descent. They can infiltrate the camp there…they'll be on the White Legs before they have time to retaliate."

Graham nodded approvingly. "…while they have the White Legs distracted, the three of us, and Raul, will sweep through this canyon – coming from the north. We'll scale the cliffs near the old ranger station…"

Boone nodded. "I saw it. High ground, good position, clear view of the camp."

"You'll set up there – Raul with you. You have a silencer for that rifle, I trust?"

Boone nodded.

"Good," He turned to Six, "Then you and I will target their flank, eliminating them quickly and quietly…our primary objective is to find Salt-Upon-Wounds and to prevent any White Legs from returning to the main camp."

"And if they get through?" Six asked.

"They won't. We can't let them," Graham answered.

"But _if _they do?"

"Then, instead of a small scale assault, we'll have an outright war on our hands."

* * *

The moon was high in the night sky, occasionally breaking through the dense mist that hung over Zion. The air was wet and thick – and, despite the cool night air, the rain was warm. Graham paced back and forth before a small number of Sorrows that had gathered in front of him, Daniel sat quietly observing them. Lightning struck in the distance…Six counted the seconds until the thunder.

"Brothers!" Graham bellowed over the roaring sky. "Sisters! Tonight I ask you gather closely! Heed the words that I am to offer…and take hold of your neighbor's hands. For _he who dwells in the shelter of the Holy Father will abide in His shadow._ Since my arrival in Zion, I have brought you despair. Hell has followed me to this most sacred ground! I ask you now to take up arms…to do something that your Sacred Father has pleaded…has commanded that you renounce. To fight! But not without cause! For the good of your brothers, your sisters, and your children!"

Six situated himself next to Daniel, who continued to watch Joshua discontently.

"Zion is your home! These marauders…intruders…have broken into the house of the Lord! But you must not yield! You must not abandon hope! Your Father protects you! And _He will deliver you from the snare of the fowler…from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his pinions, and under His wings you will find refuge!_"

"Certainly has a way with words, doesn't he?" Six said, watching Graham deliver his speech.

"He twists the words of our Lord for his own whims," Daniel replied – not attempting to hide his displeasure. "You're condemning these people, you know that don't you?"

Six cast his eyes to the ground. "I haven't found a religion that hasn't been bent and twisted to the vices of man."

"Religion isn't the problem," Daniel shook his head. "No…man is."

"…and your faith in Him _is a shield and buckler. _Through Him, _you will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day. _You shall not fear _the pestilence that stalks in darkness, nor destruction _alike! I will not lie to you! The path that lies ahead will be dangerous! _A thousand may fall at your side…ten thousand at your right hand_. Friend and foe alike…but through your faith, your Father will protect you. And you must protect His Kingdom! You must look the enemy in his eyes and you must make him recompense!"

"Do they even understand him?" Six asked, mostly wondering aloud.

"They understand enough," Daniel answered. "Even if they all don't…the crowd mentality will rally them. Joshua knows this. If he can rally a few behind his cause…many will follow."

"And _no evil shall be allowed to befall you! _Neigh I say, _no plague come near your tent! For He will command His angels to guard you in all your ways! And on their hands they will bear you up and you will tread on the lion and the serpent underfoot!_"

Graham's bandages gripped his skin tightly – wet from pouring rain. Six watched as more and more Sorrows gathered around Graham. Murmuring amongst themselves. Some – at various intervals – cheering at the mention of the Father.

"He's using their beliefs against them," Daniel said. "I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. The Sorrows have taken strongly to the New Canaan faith…"

"New Canaan's worship the Father in the Caves?"

Daniel turned to Six, confused.

"In my travels with Waking Cloud…" Six clarified, "she explained that the Father in the Cave cared for the the people of this canyon long before the New Canaanites…strange idn't it? That they shared the faith of the New Canaanites even before meeting them?"

One of Daniel's eyes squinted. He snorted and shook his head. "Of course…how could I have been so blind? They probably think that Mary is the Mother and Jesus is the Child."

"My point is, Daniel…maybe you don't know as much about these people – about what they want, about what's best for them…as you think you do. Maybe you should let them design their own destiny."

Daniel fell silent…Six could hear Graham's words echoing throughout the Narrows. The crowd around him was massive now…though some still shied away from the thought of battle.

"And we will rise up! And like a flame devours the night, we shall cut down this incursion! And our Father shall guide us…and we will pray unto the Lord, _our refuge and fortress…our God, in whom we must trust!_"

With a sigh, Daniel pulled himself to his feet. "Don't you see?" He motioned to Graham. "They're not following their hearts. Their religion. They're not carving out their own destiny. They're rallying behind a leader…a man who has given them the impression that he has all the answers." He took in a deep breath and turned his gaze to the sky.

"Listen," Six said, sympathetically. "Those who don't want to help…take them to the Dead Horse camp. I'll convince Graham to spare some warriors to protect them. If you can't save them all…save as many as you can. Because come sunrise…we're taking back this valley."

An eruption of roars filled the canyon – bouncing off the walls. Joshua had won.

Daniel turned back to Six. He studied him for a long moment then exhaled. "I don't blame you, you know? You're a gen…you're an outsider. You don't understand their ways. You don't see what I want to preserve. It might seem like fighting is the only way to do this, but it's not. I wish you could see that…I wish both of you could see that."

"See what?" Graham asked, making his way towards them.

"A lot of things," Daniel murmured – his voice forlorn. "Psalm 91…good choice." With his hands in his pockets, Daniel turned away from them. Perhaps on more level than one. And he disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

Boone reached for his sidearm, he handed it – along with its silencer – to Six, "You're going to need this."

"I probably should have a silenced weapon by now…" Six admitted.

"Probably."

Six looked out over the valley – the rain had died down, leaving only the wet ground and thick red mud as evidence of its existence. Graham was speaking with the tribals – with Two-Bears and Dancing Flame. Giving them delicate instructions on their infiltration.

"You think this is going to work, Boss?"

Six glanced over his shoulder. Raul sat slumped against the a banana yucca tree – cleaning his revolver. The night was black – Six could just make out his silhouette against the tree.

With a shrug, Six plopped down next to him. "It'd better…shame to come all this way to die now."

"Oh, don't worry, Boss. I'm sure I'll live to see the sunrise. Graham too. Maybe Boone. You're pretty screwed though," Raul mused.

Six laughed to himself despite the potential truth to his statement. "So, you never told me about this Claudia."

"You get us out of here alive," Raul bargained, "And I'll give you some stories to talk about. House. The works."

"I'll hold you to that, Old Timer."

Raul laughed. In the darkness, Six saw the familiar figure of Waking Cloud approaching him – her headdress standing out above the crowd. She sat at his side.

"Good to see you are well," she smiled. Her eyes betrayed her though…something was wrong.

"What's wrong?"

Waking Cloud swallowed and turned her eyes towards the ground. Six immediately scooped up her chin and directed her eyes towards his own.

"What's wrong?" He repeated.

"We made it to the Dead Horse camp with no trouble," She began. "But when we arrived, I saw the children."

Six shrugged. "Graham didn't evacuate the children like Daniel did?"

"No, you don't understand…" Waking Cloud chewed her lower lip. "I saw the children of my people. I saw our elderly. Our sick."

Six raised a brow, unsure of what to make of the information.

"Daniel told me that my family had been escorted to safety. With the others. That they had left with the first evacuees."

"And?"

"He did not tell us where they had gone, only that they were safe."

"So your family was with the Dead Horses?"

Waking Cloud's eyes began to shine in the darkness - wet with tears.

"Oh no…" Six pulled her to him. She began to sob quietly in his arms. "Maybe they're part of another group? A group that was sent ahead to the Grand Staircase?"

"No…if Daniel was comfortable sending children and elderly to the Grand Staircase…why would he send us after a map?"

Six hadn't considered that. He pressed her head tightly against his chest. "Cloud…I don't know what to say…"

"Whatever it is, you can discuss it later," Graham's voice called out. He started towards them. "Everything's in order."

* * *

The group did as planned – splitting off into two forces. The main force led by Dancing Flame and Two-Bears, and Six's group with the addition of Waking Cloud.

They followed Graham, traveling along the shoreline. Graham would occasionally stop – taking in the scope of his surroundings. Between the two of them – Graham and Boone – any White Leg patrols were uprooted and silenced long before they knew anyone was nearby.

When they had reached the old ranger station, they stopped.

Graham turned to Boone. "Take point in this tower…you have view of the entire camp. If you find Salt-Upon-Wounds before we do, do not hesitate to take the shot. Raul and Waking Cloud will cover you – if any…"

"Understood," Waking Cloud affirmed.

He then directed his eyes towards Raul.

"No problem, Jefe."

Boone began his ascent – Waking Cloud followed him. Raul positioned himself underneath the station, flat in the bed of a rusted, broken down pickup. They waited in darkness…giving the Dead Horses and Sorrows time to gain ground.

Boone scanned the camp…all was relatively quiet. He could see movement. But there was no sign of the White Leg war chief.

Graham placed a firm hand on Six's shoulder. "It's time," He was on his feet in an instant, tearing low across the valley. Six was surprised at how quickly he could move – given the ordeal he suffered at the hands of the Legion. Though, perhaps he shouldn't have been…he'd seen Graham move like this before, when they had first met. Incapacitating Boone in a matter of seconds.

Graham practically darted from one fallen rock to another – from tree to shrub, hastily closing in on the White Legs. In one hand he clenched his pistol – a snub nose .45, complete with silencer. In the other hand he wielded a pipe…two railway spikes driven through it, secured with wiring of sort. It was ornately decorated with beads and feathers. Six had his own weapon of choice – his machete, and the silenced SIG-Sauer Boone had lent him.

Graham disappeared swiftly into tents…Six would see him emerge briefly, claiming his victim and pulling them out of sight. Six…was not so capable. He instead elected to pick off stragglers – those who were slow to wake, or to ready themselves. Occasionally he'd here the zip of a bullet and a White Leg that would have otherwise discovered his location would hit the ground.

He wasn't sure how long they had been in the camp when the rain began to pick up again. Water streamed from the mountainsides, pouring into the valley. The horizon had begun to break, shining magnificent hues of orange and red. The sky was peaceful – despite the storm…despite the bloodshed. In the distance, Six could hear thunder.

No.

Not thunder.

Gunfire.

The Sorrows and the Dead Horses had begun their frontal assault.

The White Legs began to stir – Graham adapted his plan accordingly. He began to quickly and silently – almost unnaturally – fire upon the White Legs. A cold reenactment of his assault on the camp at the old bridge. It didn't take long for the White Legs to realize they were being attacked from both ends. Bullets zipped by them – tearing tents to shreds. Six holstered the pistol – electing instead to use his rifle. He began to backpedal, taking cover where he could.

Graham was nowhere in sight.

He could see the Sorrows and Dead Horses now…pursuing the White Legs as they attempted to retreat. People were falling in numbers – White Legs, Sorrows, Dead Horses….

The steady rhythm of gunfire perforated the valley – the steady thump of automatic weaponry and high powered rifles. The Dead Horses and Sorrows had donned their enemies' weapons.

Then Six saw him. Graham. He had a White Leg cornered…Salt-Upon-Wounds?

No.

Something was off.

A woman.

Six started towards him. The woman was on her knees. She couldn't have been more than twenty years old.

Graham held the pistol to her forhead.

Six couldn't hear what he was saying over the gunfire. Over the cries of agony.

"Graham!"

No reaction. Six cursed under his breath and stood – bolting towards Graham in a dead sprint, paying no mind to the people around him. The fighting. The blood.

He was close enough to hear her crying now. He could hear Graham demanding her to give him the location of their leader.

"Salt-Upon-Wounds….where is he?"

Graham's voice was cold. Calm. He had more than just her…four, five people. All lined up on their knees. All much too young to be here.

"What the fuck have I done…"

"_Where?"_ Graham turned his pistol to one of the captives – a single shot, a neat hole in his victim's head. The body slouched to the ground.

"Graham!" Six raised his rifle – leveling it at Graham.

No response – Graham's attention was unwavering. "_Where is he!"_ His voice rose…if only slightly. He turned the gun from her again, executing another prisoner.

"Joshua!"

The Burned Man turned towards Six. His eyes alive with fire. He looked only briefly then turned back towards the woman. He placed the gun neatly between her eyes. "_Last chance._"

Six cursed under his breath and lowered his rifle. "Not like this. They don't deserve this."

Graham turned his eyes back to Six…he could see something in them. Something besides the fire…remorse? Guilt? Sympathy?

"Don't do it, Graham…lower your gun. Let her go."

He swallowed…Six thought for a brief moment that he was getting through…Then he turned his gaze back towards the woman. "I'm sorry…I can't do that."

Somewhere in the distance lighting struck.

Six waited for the thunder.

* * *

_And I leave you with a cliff hanger...like I always do. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and I hope it satiated your hunger for Six's adventures. See you next time._


	10. Chapter 9: Sins And Lawless Acts

_This chapter would have been posted a few days ago...but, seeing as the battle between the White Legs and the Dead Horses and Sorrows is at its climax, I decided to pour some extra time into it. Hopefully this chapter is testament to my hard labor._

_I must sound like a broken record, but I really like the way this chapter turned out. It took some serious thinking to figure out how I wanted to approach it...but I'm pleased with the product._

_The next chapter will be posted Sunday if all goes well. Things are going to start winding down as we prepare to head back to the Mojave. Three chapters left for this piece.  
_

_Please, enjoy.  
_

* * *

Boone gently laid the barrel of his rifle across the railing of the ranger station. He peered through his scope – it was dark. But Boone was familiar with darkness; earning him his position as night guardsmen in Novac. Countless nights spent in the mouth of that great lizard, staring out into the all consuming blackness of the Mojave. He'd become accustomed to it…the darkness, he'd learned a long time ago, was his friend. He could conceal himself in it – in more ways than one.

He thought back to the night of the ambush…sitting around the campfire. His eyes unadjusted to the darkness around him. Struggling to get a visual. It wasn't like that now…his vision had adapted to those familiar ways. Though, still – he had to admit – some Cateye would be useful right about now.

_But_, he reminded himself, _this was different_. During the ambush, the White Legs had the high ground – they had cover. They were attuned to the darkness. They had the advantage. An advantage that now belonged to him. With his eyes adjusted, he could make them out. Graham was leagues ahead of Six – even from a crouched position, he was practically sprinting across the valley.

Boone swept across the camp like a canvas – his rifle the brush. Salt-Upon-Wounds was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he was in one of the tents?

He watched Graham dash from one piece of cover to another. A few times, he was sure Graham would be discovered…but the White Legs sentries would pass him by, merely an arm's stretch from his position. Graham would act fast…as they neared him. Hunkering low to the ground. He'd wait silently for them to pass. For those unlucky enough to fall too great a distance behind the others, he'd emerge from the brush. He'd wrap their necks in the crook of his elbow and pull them from sight. When he was near enough to the camp, his method changed drastically. As the sentries neared him, he lied low. He let them pass…then, like a coiled rattler, he struck. He stood, burying his hatchet into the skull of one. Then, he took aim – with a speed that seemed impossible. His silenced pistol caused a light kick, one he barely took notice of. And in the blink of an eye, three sentries lay dead at his feet.

This all seemed to be routine. Graham seemed to be perfectly in control.

Boone swept his rifle to Six's location. He could see Six struggling to keep up with Graham. He could see the White Legs passing dangerously close to Six's position. One of the White Legs took notice of Six's movement. He edged closer towards him…Six was focused on catching up to Graham. The White Leg was close…a few yards away. Boone took aim and fired. The White Leg fell to the ground with a dull thud. The noise attracted Six, who examined the body then cast a appreciative glance in Boone's direction.

Six was in the camp now…he disappeared into a nearby tent. After a moment, he emerged – machete wet with blood. The rain started to pick back up. The sun was beginning to break – and the White Legs began to rouse. Boone could hear the familiar rattle of gunfire in the distance – The Sorrows and Dead Horses had found their mark.

Still, there was no sign of the White Leg war chief.

Boone turned his scope in the direction of the White Leg camp at Red Gate. He focused his rifle. He could see them retreating, headed towards the camp where Six and Graham laid in wait. He could see the Sorrows, clumsily wielding the weapons of their fallen foes. He frowned…they weren't accustomed to firearms. This could pan out badly…

The Dead Horses flanked the camp, coming around, back from the north. Graham must have split them up to barricade the White Legs in. No one would make it out of this camp if Graham didn't want them to. Boone skimmed through the ongoing battle – his sights coming to rest on Graham. Graham had adapted his strategy yet again. He fired his weapon steadily – never missing a beat. Downing targets with his pistol that seemed impossible distances away. He briskly paced through the camp – firing as he treaded from one piece of cover to the next. The White Legs were fighting back. Firing at Graham…and if they were firing at Graham…

Boone searched the camp – for a moment, he couldn't find Six. But when he did, Six had his rifle at the ready. Pacing backwards in the dim morning light, firing at any target he could find.

"Raul!" Boone barked.

"I see him," Raul answered immediately. Boone could hear the thick squelch of the ghoul's feet trekking through the mud in Six's direction.

He swept back around towards the White Legs – he'd aim, fire, and repeat. Three. Four. Five targets down. He ejected the clip, reloaded his weapon, and resumed firing. Raul should be nearly…

He scanned the crowd…Six wasn't headed backwards anymore. He was rushing forward. He wasn't even firing on the enemies…he zipped through the warzone in a dead sprint. Passing White Legs, Dead Horses, and Sorrows alike. What could have him so worked up? He followed Six's projected course…eastwards, towards the Red Gate. Not quite that far…doubled back…then he saw it.

Graham.

He had half a dozen captive tribals – all on their knees before them. He was standing before one of the captives. He stood there a long minute, then turned his pistol towards another – he fired once and the captive slumped to the ground.

Six raised his rifle – leveling it on Graham.

Then Boone saw the captive Graham stood before…a woman.

...Kurisu.

Graham turned from Kurisu, executing another prisoner.

Without missing a beat, Boone leveled his rifle on Graham's head.

Graham turned to Six. They seemed to be talking.

Six lowered his rifle.

Boone sighed in relief, though it would be short lived. Graham placed the pistol between Kurisu's eyes. He turned briefly back to Six, then towards the woman.

Boone fired.

Lighting struck in the distance. Six closed his eyes…waiting for the inevitable thunder.

And then he heard it, a sharp cry of pain…anger. The sound of metal on metal. Six's eyes shot open, Graham cupped his right hand in his left, cursing under his breath. His pistol lay on the ground mere feet from his position – shattered, broken into thirds.

* * *

"To be honest, I can't believe I'm still alive, Boss."

Six cast Raul a wry smile. "We made sure to take on most of the weight ourselves."

"I can see that, Boss. You really held up your own back there."

The fighting had died down…more than that. It was over. Those that had resisted were with whatever God they deified. The rest…were lined up against the canyon wall. Unarmed, terrified, and defeated. Graham stood before them, discussing the situation with Two-Bears.

"Nobody leaves," Graham spoke softly – still favoring his right hand. "If anyone so much as even moves, end them where they stand."

Two-Bears gave a single nod to his chief and returned to his tribesmen. Graham cast his gaze on the former NCR 1st Recon sniper – treading towards him in the distance, Waking Cloud following closely behind. He trudged towards Six and Raul.

"He's one hell of a shot," Graham acknowledged, motioning toward Boone – "Your friend."

Six nodded in agreement. "Yeah…about that..."

Graham held up a pacifying hand. "Save your apologies. Anything that's to be said, he can tell me himself. Though, I suspect I know his reasons." Then to Raul: "Can you fix it?"

Raul examined the .45 thoroughly. "Maybe…Boone's rife is .308 though, it's not going to be easy."

"It was a gift. See it repaired and returned to me, and I'll see you well rewarded." He turned to one of the Dead Horses, whispering into the tribal's ear. The Dead Horse shuffled off.

"No charge, Jefe," Raul tipped his sombrero. "I'll be using spare parts from your own gun cache anyway."

"You are too kind," Graham said appreciatively. He shifted his eyes back to Boone, who was drawing nearer by the moment. "How long have you known this one?"

Six shrugged. "Close to three months now, give or take."

"And you trust him?"

"With my life," Six admitted. "Rightfully so. He's saved my ass more times than I can count."

Graham took a breath. "And it seems he trusts you as well."

"What makes you say that?"

"If one pays attention, one sees what others often miss…" Graham sat at Six's side. "I have my suspicion that the only reason that my gun lies in ruin now is because of you."

"You think I had him attack you?"

"No," Graham clarified – standing to greet Boone. "I think you saved my life."

Boone was nearing earshot. "What the hell are you thinking, you son of a bitch! Murdering unarmed p.o.w.'s?" He turned his fiery eyes towards Six; practically shining through his shades. "I told you we couldn't trust him! He's Legion! They're all the same!"

"Kurisu." Graham's words came off less as a question and more as a statement of fact.

"What?" Boone locked his eyes on Graham.

"The woman…she's the one who set you free?"

"What does it matter? You were killing them in cold blood."

"You knew the plan coming into this," Graham retorted. "And I'd say it's a safe assumption to say that more than a few of the bodies strewn across this necropolis are the result of your own will."

"I did what I had to," Boone growled, his voice low.

"As do I. But, I wonder if she would appreciate that fact?" Graham asked.

Boone didn't answer.

Graham waited in silence a long moment – he and Boone locked in a death stare. Finally, Boone turned away.

"To hell with this."

"Why didn't you take the shot?" Graham called out behind him.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

"You shot the gun from my hands. Why didn't you take the kill shot?"

Boone turned back to face him. After a beat, he answered. "Because a friend of mine asked if he could trust me," he cast a glance at Six. "Because a man is only as good as his word."

Graham chuckled quietly to himself. "Bring the girl to me," He called out.

Boone raised a brow.

Dancing Flame escorted her out, pushing her to her knees at Graham's feet.

"Kurisu?" Graham's eyes studied the woman. "Do you know who I am?"

Kurisu swallowed. "Divolo."

Graham narrowed his eyes. "You think I'm the devil? And what of Salt-Upon-Wounds? What about the things he did in Ogden…the people he murdered in cold blood. What do you think of your war chief?"

Kurisu's breathing was quick – panicked. She turned her eyes to Boone, pleading for help. Boone stepped forward, Graham held up his hand.

"Put your dog on a leash," Graham warned Six. " I'm not going to hurt her."

Six shot Boone a glance. Boone frowned, but didn't move.

"What do you think of Salt-Upon-Wounds?" Graham reiterated.

Again, the tribal girl swallowed. "He est nu besser than you…"

Graham seemed pleased with the answer. "And this man…why did you help him?"

Kurisu looked at Boone again – eyes still begging for his aid.

"Why?" Graham repeated. "Warum? …Por qué?"

She turned back to Graham. "Cansado…sick zu ucissione…"

"Tired…" Graham chuckled. "Sick and tired of the killing…perhaps Daniel was right. Perhaps…there is hope for your tribe yet. How many feel the same way?"

The woman stared at him, confused.

Graham took a breath. "Cansado zu ucissione…cómo viele di più?"

"Molti. Moltissimi zu grande."

"Lo haránno folgen you?" No response. Graham scoured his mind. "Lo haránno însoți you?"

"Nu. Lo haránno Flag Bearer."

"Flag Bearer?" Graham echoed.

"Ya. Out-man flag en sulla shienda."

"What is it?" Six asked, curiously.

"She says her people are tired of fighting…at the very least, a good deal of them are. They're following more than just Salt-Upon-Wounds. They're following someone else…the Flag Bearer."

A sudden flash of memory. "I saw him," Boone said flatly. "At Three Marys. Man in a duster…had an Old World Flag on it."

Six narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah. Come to think of it…he definitely seemed like the one in charge."

"Ulysses," Graham grunted. "I should have known…" He looked at Boone. "You snuck out of the camp. Do you think you could sneak us back in?"

"Why?"

"Ulysses trained the White Legs. It's because of him they found the armory and raided its weapons. It's because of him, my tribe lies dead in the ruins of Ogden. We eliminate Salt-Upon-Wounds. We capture their Flag Bearer…and we won't need to eliminate the White Legs in their entirety."

"That's it then, isn't it?" Boone scoffed. "This is only about vengeance. That's what it's always been about."

"Revenge? No. Seeking revenge is an act of passion. This isn't vengeance, it's retribution. This is justice."

Boone looked at the tribal woman at Graham's feet. "And if I do this, you'll free her people?"

Under his bandages, Graham's lips curved into a smile. "You have my word."

The tribal returned – he handed Graham a pistol. Graham inspected it and nodded approvingly – he tucked it into his holster – then looked at Six. "It belonged to Follows-Chalk."

* * *

The four of them – Graham, Six, Raul, and Boone – trekked across the mesa, high above the valley floor. The ascent was rough…but, as Boone was too familiar with, the descent would be much more perilous. They walked in silence – pushing through the rain. Red sediment clung to their boots, the wind howled and lighting would occasionally streak across the sky.

The walk was longer than Boone remembered…but, not by much. He took them along the winding canyon wall, back to Three Marys where he had made his rocky ascent. "There," he pointed. "That's the cave where the prisoners are being held. That's where we'll likely find them."

Graham peered into the valley below. White Legs flooded the river banks. Tents and makeshift huts set up across the valley floor.

Boone crouched low and made his way to the cliff face. He peered over the edge. "This is where I scaled the canyon wall."

The precipice was steep – nearly smoothed over from centuries upon centuries of erosion. Six frowned. "This is suicide…"

"Yes," Graham agreed. "We can't descend here. The risk is far too great."

"Maybe…" Raul stroked his chin. "Boss, how many rolls of that surgical tubing do you have?"

Six shrugged. "Fifteen maybe."

"How long are they?"

"Varies. Three to five feet usually."

"And how far would you say this drop is?" Raul asked, looking at Boone.

"Thirty-five feet. Give or take."

Raul smiled. "And how many rolls of duct tape do you have?"

"Oh, plenty. Five rolls or better," Six answered.

Boone raised a brow.

"What? You can never have enough duct tape. You never know what you'll need it for."

Graham seemed puzzled. He stared at Raul inquisitively. "Is there a point to this?"

"Sure there is, Jefe. Start braiding the tubing. We're going to make a rope."

The process was slow going at first, but once a few sections of tubing had been braided, Raul began the taping process – winding the tape back and forth in a crossing motion to strengthen the bond. Six had seventeen sections of tubing, the longest of which ran about eight feet. They used every piece. Three rolls of duct tape later, a crude rubber-plastic rope stretched almost thirty feet before them.

Raul tied the pseudo-rope around his waist, then made his way to the cliff's edge – near a large boulder. He buried his heels into the base of the bolder and chucked the rope over the cliff. "One at a time, rope can't handle too much. And these old bones aren't much better off."

Six peeked over the edge again and examined the rope nervously. "You're sure this is going to work?"

"Sure I'm sure, Boss. Have I ever let you down?"

Six wasn't sure if Raul's sarcasm was shining through…but even if it was, he had to admit that the old timer had never given him a reason to doubt him. Then again…he'd practically just met the ghoul. Six gulped, swallowing a pocket of air and eased towards the cliff. Before he could situate himself, Boone was on the rope, scaling down the side. Six watched him – half amazed and half terrified. The rope was short, but not by much. When he reached the bottom, Boone kicked off the canyon wall and landed roughly in a tuck and roll. As he stood, he immediately readied his rifle.

He turned back up towards them. "Clear." His voice was just loud enough to relay the information without also alerting the White Legs to their presence.

Graham was next – gracefully climbing down the mountainside. The man was surprisingly agile.

Six took a breath.

"You're up, Boss."

Six bit his lower lip. "This is so fucking stupid…" He turned to Raul, "When I'm down, you head back to the others."

"Will do," Raul responded with a nod.

Six eased towards the edge. Gripping the makeshift rope tightly, he worked his way over. Slowly, he began down the rock face. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest – he was almost sure he could hear it too. Occasionally bits of red soil and rock would topple down the canyon wall. He was just over halfway now…moving almost at a snail's pace.

On top of the mesa, Raul was struggling. He grunted, holding the rope – he felt it stretching – the plastic and rubber giving way. "C'mon, Boss…any day now."

A head below him now…five feet, then he'd have to jump. Six paced himself, steadying his breathing. He was at the bottom.

"Jump," Graham whispered.

Six peered over his shoulder…Son of a bitch, he was still high up.

Buzzing.

He turned back towards the canyon wall. "Okay, Six. You can do this…"

Louder.

"What the fuck is that noise?"

He felt it before he saw it – a stinging sensation in his thigh. He heard the sound of Boone's silenced rifle. He was falling…and so was his assailant. Cazador. A juvenile from the look of it…about a foot across. He'd seen much bigger. He landed hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him.

Raul poked his head over the cliff's edge. "Boss! You okay?"

Six didn't answer…he couldn't answer. He couldn't breathe.

"He'll be fine," Graham called back, chuckling to himself. He knelt next to Six. "Take a breath." He rummaged through his pockets – withdrawing a small brown vial. "Drink this…for the sting. Antivenom brewed from the local datura root."

He lifted Six's head, gently raising the vial to his lips. Six drank, coughed…and drank more. The taste was miserable. He sat up, searching for composure.

"Son of bitch," Six groaned.

Graham laughed, patting his back. "You'll be fine. Rest here if you must, but stay out of sight. Boone and I will go ahead."

Six struggled to his feet. "No! No. I'm good. Let's go."

They pressed on, following the winding trail towards the cave. Staying low – out of sight. Then they were in – the darkness consumed them. Strange luminescent fungi clung to the cave walls. Deeper inside the cave, they could hear talking…

They moved like ghosts, silently – following Boone's lead. They could see them now – a dozen of them around a campfire. Salt-Upon-Wounds among them.

Boone pointed to him – then whispered, barely audible. "Him."

Graham stalked forward, pressing himself against the cave wall. He moved slowly – unnaturally. He was close to them…

"Kuna-man mad…kill all White legs! Kuna-man pay!" Salt-Upon-Wounds assured the group.

They cheered in response.

"Flag Bearer want courier and Kuna-man! He get neither!"

Another cheer.

Graham lunged forward, wrapping his arm around Salt-Upon-Wounds neck. The White Legs stood, Graham immediately withdrew Chalk's pistol and fired. A well aimed shot, hitting its mark in the White Leg's eye. They froze…staring at him expectedly. "Against the wall."

They didn't respond. He fired again, hitting one in the kneecap. The White Leg fell to the ground in pain.

"Now!"

They did as they were commanded.

"Take their weapons."

Six and Boone obliged – disarming the White Legs.

Graham flipped Salt-Upon-Wounds around, grasping his throat tightly. He pressed him against the wall.

"We warned you at Syracuse…still you persist. You took advantage of us at New Canaan…drove us out, butchered my people. Then…like the dogs of Caesar you are…you followed us to Zion. Now you stand here, on this most sacred ground. A testament to your sin…on the monument of God's Glory. You're an animal…and the only use for an animal in this temple is sacrifice!"

Salt-Upon-Wounds swallowed hard.

"Kale watche nei conserva oh! You understand me, don't you?"

Silence.

Graham pushed the pistol into the chief's throat. "_Don't you?"_

Salt-Upon-Wounds cast his eyes towards Six. "Outman! Per favore! Please! You talk! Him hear you!"

Six's face was a void – empty of sympathy.

"Please…" Salt-Upon-Wounds begged, practically in tears.

"Your cries are those of a mad beast caught in a thicket!" Graham barked. "You gave no mercy to my family…Now that I have come to collect your debt, you cower in the water like a damn animal pleading for mercy of your own. We have none to give."

"Jefe…" Raul emerged from the shadows. "It's over…no more blood."

Graham glared at the ghoul. "No. It's not over until this man pays in blood."

"And then what?" Raul asked. "The rest of his people? How many must die? How many must suffer?"

Graham's breathing was paced. He sneered, casting his eyes from Raul to the White Leg chief.

"_Forgive them their trespasses, so that your Heavenly Father may also forgive you."_ Those were the words Raul spoke next. Alien to Six…but Graham's anger seemed to pacify at this thought.

"I want to take from them what they took from me…from my family," Graham confessed. "In this life. I want them to suffer as I have suffered. I want all of them to die in fear and pain." He took a deep breath. "Sometimes I tell myself that these wild fires in my heart never stop burning. That they are the result of the world around me. But…_but I'm the one who starts them_. They're not the will of God…or the result of the White Legs. Or even Caesar. They're always there…in the back of my mind. The warmth and the heat…will always be a part of me." He narrowed his eyes, pulling the hammer back on the gun. He leaned in close to Salt-Upon-Wounds…close enough that the tribal could see that fire in his eyes. "_But not today._ Go." He released his captive. "Get out of here…go back to the Great Salt Lake. But be warned…I will not extend this hospitality a second time. We got to you once…past your defenses. Slipped through your security. We can do it again. If I ever see you again…I _will_ kill you."

"Wait…" Six stepped forward, eyes glued upon the White Leg chief. "The Flag Bearer. Where is he?"

Salt-Upon-Wounds swallowed again…more easily this time. "Flag Bearer leave last moon."

"Are you lying to me?" Six asked, leveling the sidearm that Boone had lent him at the tribal's head.

"No. Truth."

Six chewed his lower lip. "You won't stop."

The tribal looked at him.

Six continued, "You'll keep killing…you're scavengers. A war tribe." Six wheeled the chief around, "March," he told him, pressing forward. He turned to his group – "Bring the others."

He stood at the center of Three Marys – atop a large mound. The White Legs gathered round – shifting in uncomfortable silence. Waiting for an opportunity to rescue their leader.

"You have been deceived," Six shouted over the pouring rain. "This man promises you safety within Caesar's Legion. That is a promise he cannot deliver. This man! Joshua Graham! The Burned Man! He was part of the Legion!" Six turned to Graham. "Tell them! Tell them about your former family!"

Graham was quiet for a long moment. Then he turned to the White Legs. "Caesar will not accept you into his ranks…and even if he does, it will not be what you expect it to be," Graham explained. "The women…su frauen…they will be taken as slaves. Shiavi. Used for breeding, for labor. Raped. Or worse. The men…su fir…will become subjects of the Legion. They will be conditioned. They will serve Caesar unconditionally or they will be crucified. And even if you serve him…you will die. Eventually. Caesar does not lead his people. He rules his people."

"This man," Six cut in, "would have you believe that he is protecting you. The truth is…he is leading you to your doom. Kurisu says you are sick of war. You are tired of fighting. So end it…put down your weapons and take up hands with the Dead Horses. With the Sorrows. With the New Canaanites. They will teach you to live off the land…no more running. No more senseless violence." Six pressed the pistol into the back of the war chief's head and fired. A spray of red mist consumed the air. The crowd that had gathered round let out a surprised gasp. The chief's body fell limply to the ground. "No more salting the earth."

Six waited…sure that the White Legs would attack him. Instead…they all stood frozen in place – watching him contently. Then he heard a splash…and another. All around him. The White Legs were dropping their weapons.

* * *

They passed through the White Leg camp quietly and without incident. The road back to the camp was short…the Sorrows and the Dead Horses awaited their return. When they had made it back, Graham freed the prisoners.

"I'm surprised," Six admitted. "I didn't think you'd let him go."

"I thought you would," Graham sighed. "It will not be easy from here on out. The White Legs are not used to compromise. To cooperation. It will take the work of New Canaan's finest missionaries to bring peace to this valley. There will be animosity between the tribes for years to come."

Six nodded in agreement.

"Which is why you must understand that I cannot go back with you."

"What?" Six turned to face Graham. "Fuck that. We had a deal."

Graham shook his head. "Things have grown more complicated. I must stay…at least until the other New Canaanites arrive."

"Then send scouts to find them. Fuck, I'll send Raul and Boone. But you're not backing out of this."

Graham pressed his lips. "_This is the covenant I will make with them; after that time, says the Lord. I Will put my laws in their hearts, and I will write them on their minds. Then he adds: Their sins and lawless acts I will remember no more. And where these have been forgiven, sacrifice for sin is no longer necessary_."

Six cocked his head to the side, confused.

"Hebrews ten…we all make covenants. With each other. With our God. Raul was right…we must learn to forgive as our Lord and Savior has taught us. To turn the other cheek…and a good man once said to me that a man is only as good as his word. Still, the covenant we make with our Lord must take precedence over our promises to our fellow man." Graham took a long breath. "Come. Tomorrow will be here soon…and there is much to do."

* * *

_I'm really liking Raul's character more and more. So much potential with all of that knowledge of his. He's been around for a long, long time...done a lot, seen a lot. It's fun to use him as a wise man. And not just with philosophical matters, but technical matters too. It took me a while to figure out how I was going to get them down off the cliff and into the White Leg camp. I didn't want to conveniently give them a rope...and I didn't want to make anyone backtrack. At the same time...just saying they climbed down seemed like a cop out. So I got a little creative with it. I liked the end result.__  
_

_I kind of feel like - compared to Boone, Graham, and Raul...Six is a pretty weak character. But at the same time...I think that makes him more likeable. I dunno...I mean, eventually, he's going to start getting better. It's inevitable...he'll get stronger, he'll become wiser, but he'll always have his weaknesses. Balancing his fear and pragmatism with courage, drive to help...and a bit of his dark side is proving to be a challenge. He adapts to the situation as necessary though not always without complaint. I just hope I'm keeping his character contradiction free. I mean...it's not always easy to remember what I've had him do in past chapters. And I simply don't have time to go back and reread everything every time I write a chapter. So I'm mostly just going with instinct here.  
_

_Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Until next time.  
_


	11. Chapter 10: Lead Us Not To Temptation

_The closing chapters are going in a direction a little different than the last few chapters...less emphasis on action and more emphasis on resolution. A little bit of character development and people tackling issues they may not be quite comfortable with._

_Enjoy.  
_

* * *

It seemed strange…sharing a camp with White Legs. Of course, not all of the captives from their campaign chose to stay. The vast majority left the camp at Red Gate to return to Three Marys. But some had elected to stay. To attend a sermon lead by Joshua Graham as he spoke of the _Heavenly Father_. But even if they had all left…it seemed strange to be so close to their enemies; especially when those enemies knew of their presence.

Six didn't know exactly why such a notion seemed so alien to him. He had rested his head on either side of The Tops. In the Lucky 38…and in that little hotel room with the blonde. Sarah? He couldn't quite remember her last name. Maybe it was because Benny was one man…and the White Legs were still greatly numbered.

Kurisu had returned with Graham to the camp after the infiltration. After they had slain Salt-Upon-Wounds. After _he_ had executed the White Leg war chief. She relayed Graham's proposal…that the White Legs become permanent residents of Zion. That they would be taught to live off the land. To provide for themselves. To fish and cultivate land and animal alike. They would be taught to be self sufficient. In exchange…Graham asked only that they handed over their firearms. This was a difficult concept to struggle with for them…after all, they couldn't really know if Graham's intentions were as benevolent as they were made out to be. Those who chose to keep their weapons were allowed to do so under the condition that they leave the valley. Then the White Legs were cordially invited to Graham's sermon. To learn of the Father.

Surprisingly, this negotiation happened without incident.

Unsurprisingly, not many chose to attend the sermon. Out of anger or fear…or some combination of the two. But some did choose to return to Red Gate…to travel with them to the Dead Horse camp so that they may listen to Graham's address. Kurisu among them.

Now, after the negotiations, Boone sat silently next to Kurisu next to a dwindling campfire. The both stared furtively into the flames – their minds consumed by very different thoughts. Thoughts that…despite their differences…arose from the same base design and origin. Death's design…and not just by chance. Death orchestrated by the Legion.

Six stretched out, laying his head on his pack, and lost himself in the night sky. The stars seemed so much more beautiful out here – at least, when they weren't hidden away by a clouded sky. And at that thought, his mind drifted to a much more personable Cloud. The woman who lay asleep mere feet away from him now. Curled up in a bedding of hay and leaves. The ground was damp and cold – so he'd covered her up with his duster.

The last few days had been hard for her…with the war between the tribes and her missing family to contend with. She had been so talkative when he had first met her. Since her return from the Dead Horses camp, she had barely said a word.

_I'll have words with Daniel over that soon enough_, he thought with growing agitation.

But for now…he would rest.

* * *

The Dead Horse camp was a short distance from the camp at Red Gate. Six wasn't sure what he enjoyed more…the look of pride in Joshua's eyes as they marched up the Virgin River towards the camp, or the look of disbelief in Daniel's at the sight of the small group of White legs following the group.

"Joshua…" Daniel's eyes shifted from the former Legate to the White Legs – Kurisu among them. "Prisoners?"

"No," Graham answered calmly. "Envoys."

One of Daniel's brows stood high on end – a look of exasperated confusion on his face. "En…Envoys?"

"Yes," Graham nodded once. "Salt-Upon-Wounds has left this mortal coil. The White Legs…at least, those that remain…seek a truce. They want peace. They want to be taught the ways of the New Canaanite."

Daniel furrowed his brow, his eyes narrowed. "Of course…" He shot the White Legs an apprehensive glance. "Can we talk about this in private?"

Graham took a breath. After a beat, he motioned for Daniel to lead the way and turned to Six. "Care to join us?"

With a shrug, Six fell in line behind them. They made their way through the winding passages of Angel Cave until finally coming to the same chamber he and Graham had their first encounter in some time before.

Graham made his way to the table – the very same that Boone had fired through those days before – and sat behind it. He immediately began examining the .45's. Meticulously inspecting every aspect of the guns – stacking them neatly to his left. It was if the last few days had never happened. Business as usual.

"What can I do for you, Daniel?"

Graham barely had time to get the question out.

"You want to assimilate the White Legs?" His question tore through the air, hitting its mark in Graham's ears.

Graham looked up from his pistols for a moment…then returned to his task. "The White Legs are miscreants. Animals fit for sacrifice. A Godless bunch of heathens and marauders. But was it not you who wanted a peaceful resolution to this conflict?"

"_Peace_…" Daniel barked loudly. He stopped, composing himself, and took a breath. "Peaceful? Yes, I wanted a peaceful resolution. But what you did was far from it. You murdered their chief. Massacred two of their camps. Do you really think they're going to sweep that under the rug?"

"No," Graham admitted. "I do not. It may take years…decades…for true peace to be obtained. If it is ever obtained at all. But with the help of our brethren, and perhaps select members of the Followers, we can help them. It is our duty to honor the laws of God and start others along the path to salvation if we can. Who are we to deny them a chance at atonement?"

Daniel fell silent.

"If it's any consolation," Six chimed in, "Graham didn't kill Salt-Upon-Wounds. He forgave the man…I didn't."

Daniel swallowed and let his eyes meet Six's.

"It was about Boone," Six explained. "Someone had to pay for the hell he went through."

With a grunt, Daniel shook his head. "Typical reaction. But given the circumstances…and his reputation…I suppose it was for the best to remove him from the picture. As long as he presided over the White Legs a passive solution would never be found." He turned back to Graham. "Given the White Legs' assault on Ogden…it may be for the best to recruit a Follower to supervise the tribe."

Graham nodded. "Still, we must send scouts to the remaining missionaries. We must reorganize. Rebuild."

Daniel nodded knowingly. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and remained silent for a long moment. "And what of your promise to Six?"

At this notion, Six found his eyes turned to Graham – awaiting his verdict.

Graham sighed, laying a pistol on the table in front of him. He seemed to be chewing the idea over in his mind. "I will make good on my word. But only after a suitable replacement has been found to lead the Dead Horses."

"And what replacement do you want?" Six asked.

"Bill Calhoun," Graham answered immediately. "Calhoun is a good man. Far better than I. During Caesar's rise, Calhoun resisted the demons that plague me still. I know no man better suited for guiding the Dead Horses to salvation."

"And where is this Calhoun?" Six asked.

"After Caesar released him, he was instructed to return to the Boneyard. That would be the place to look."

Six cursed under his breath. "You're fucking shitting me! That's four hundred miles or better. If he's even there!"

Graham didn't respond.

"Look," Six spat, "I know you want what's best for these tribes. But for that kind of distance, we're talking five weeks or better of traveling. I simply don't have that kind of time. You wanted to cleanse this valley. You wanted to save it. I helped you do that. Now it's time to fulfill your end of the bargain."

Graham's icy eyes did not waver. He'd made up his mind. "Purging the valley of the White Leg threat is only half the battle. Had we eliminated the White Legs in their entirety, I would have no qualms about leaving. But the fact remains that we didn't…and though the loss of their chief has greatly crippled them, they are still an openly aggressive tribe. Without someone to lead them, who's to say they won't rise and attack the Sorrows or Dead Horses again?"

And he was right. Six didn't have an answer for that question. "That doesn't change the fact that I've already been gone for nearly three weeks. How long do you think Caesar is going to wait before he executes that girl? If he hasn't done it already. You would condemn her to death?"

"You would condemn hundreds for a single soul. A soul that you care nothing about, no less," Graham countered. "Sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one."

Six chewed his lower lip. He could feel his hands start to tremble.

"Joshua," Daniel interjected. "You say Calhoun returned to the Boneyard?"

"Yes."

"Then go back with him. I'll send a few scouting parties along the Colorado. A great deal of our people have settled its shores. They can be here within the week…I can handle things until then. When you reach New Vegas, send a few of the followers back. Last I heard, Nephi, Ignacio Rivas, and Bert Gunnarsson were all in the Mojave. I'm sure there are others. You have to travel along the Long-15 to get back to the Core Region anyway. Go with him. Get help from the followers. You can send an envoy to the Boneyard to retrieve Bill Calhoun when you get there."

"No. I will not abandon these people in their time of need."

"_Abandon_ them?" Daniel said it almost in disbelief. "Who's asking you to abandon them? Joshua…I've wanted to avoid this discussion, but it seems you leave me little choice. You are a monument to both God's unending forgiveness and to humanity's unfathomable capacity for cruelty. A living bible of all mankind's miseries of war. And I know…it's a debt you repay _every_ day. But we both know that you're not just a man of God. Beneath those bandages…" He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Beneath those bandages, you are burned flesh. And as you burn, so do you consume everyone around you. You wanted to fight the White Legs because they stoked the naked flame inside you…the Dead Horses…the Sorrows…they see only the light, Joshua. They do not yet feel the heat…and I pray they never will. But that isn't up to me…and it isn't up to God. It's up to you…and if you stay, eventually…someone will burn for it."

Graham took a deep breath – thinking. Finally, he spoke: "Go. I must meditate on this."

Without a word, Six and Daniel obliged. They began retracing their steps through the caves snaky passageways.

"Something's been bothering me," Six confessed.

With a light-hearted smile, Daniel nodded. "Please, speak your mind."

"In the Narrows…there were no elders, no children…"

Daniel shifted uncomfortably.

"At first glance," Six continued, "this makes sense. I mean, you were preparing for war, right? So those unable to fight would be evacuated. Only…you wanted to evacuate everyone. But you couldn't. Not without that map. A map that I retrieved for you personally. But they were gone long before I arrived, weren't they?"

"I sent them ahead to wait on us…" Daniel's voice was shaking.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. Until Waking Cloud recognized some of the children here. Then it dawns on you, see? The Sorrows are not as capable in combat as the Dead Horses. And you're certainly not as capable as Graham. So who better to protect them, right?"

With a sigh, Daniel stopped walking. "Where are you going with this?"

"It's clear to me that you sent them here. But, Waking Cloud's family isn't among them. Her children. Her husband. Gone."

"That's a problem for tomorrow…there are plenty of troubles for us here today." Daniel swallowed. "The past is gone. We must focus on the present."

Six removed his beret, twisting it between his fingers. "Except the past isn't gone. You can't get away from it. It'll catch you…eventually. It always does. You said it yourself...It's not something you can just sweep under the rug. Now we both know there's something you're not telling her. And I can probably guess what it is…the question is, are you going to tell her before I do?"

"Who are you or I to put such a burden on her? You think I like hiding it from her? I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. Her people…honestly, more than that. We all need her…we need her to be strong. She doesn't need this kind of distraction. To every thing, there is a season. And as much as it pains me to say it…there will be time to mourn later."

Six raised a brow.

"I know it's not an easy thing to understand…and I don't like doing it. But I can't see any good coming from telling Waking Cloud her husband died…not right now."

"Bullshit. She already knows something is off…you want to _spare_ her. Give me a break. You're supposed to be leading these people. Not hiding things from them. It's her family. She deserves to know the truth."

Daniel turned his gaze to the ground, his hands shaking. "I know…_I know._ You're right…and I shouldn't have hidden it from her. It's just…the Sorrows don't deserve this. What we've brought on them. Sometimes I look at them and wonder if they would have been better off if we'd never found those old trails. If we never found Zion." He paused and turned his gaze back to Six. "Fine. I'll tell her." He nodded, as if confirming the idea to himself. "I'll tell her."

They continued through the cave in silence. Just outside the cave's entrance, they found Waking Cloud gathered around a campfire with Raul, Boone, and Kurisu. She turned her gaze towards them as they emerged into daylight. She stood and half jogged to greet them.

"Daniel," She said, a pseudo-smile plastered across her face. "Katu veo."

Daniel smiled a broken smile, his lips quivering. "Listen…about your family."

Waking Cloud's smile faded.

"I sent the…" Daniel took a breath. "I sent the elderly…the sick…the children…I sent them here a couple weeks ago just before Six and his group arrived. I thought…I thought if anyone could protect them that the Dead Horses could. _That Joshua could_. And you can't blame him…since they've arrived, there have been no casualties. But…" His words were interlaced with sobs. "There was an attack, before they were able to meet up with the Dead Horses at the Virgin Fork Campground." Daniel removed his hat and turned his gaze to the sky. "Ah…your family got split off. Your husband. He was wounded…the White Legs used datura venom on their blades. He was in a bad way. He led them…"

Waking Cloud's eyes were red, her lips trembling. Her breathing was erratic…her gaze shifted from Daniel to Six.

"He led them north…" Daniel's voice cracked. "To the yao guai den in Pine Creek Caverns. That's why I sent Chalk and Six's companions to the cave. To see if they could find any trace of them. And to eliminate any future threat." Daniel shook his head. "They're gone Cloud…I'm…I'm sorry."

Waking Cloud's grief was visibly changing. Turning into anger…fury. "How…how dare you?!" A single slap, hard across Daniel's face. "What gives you the right?" She was in tears now. "I thought you were my friend! But it's clear now! You care nothing for the Sorrows! Nothing for me!" She looked once at Six, then turned…following the shoreline, quickly.

Six turned to Daniel. "I know that must have been hard…but you did the right thing."

Daniel chewed his lower lip and after a moment nodded. "Yeah. I can only pray to God that you're right. Please…" He turned his gaze to Six. "Make sure she's okay."

* * *

When he found her, she was seated atop a large rock formation linking the canyon walls, high above the Dead Horses' camp. She sat precariously close to the edge, feet dangling over. She reclined back, losing herself in thought – head in the clouds.

Six sat next to her without speaking…then stretched back. He took her hand into his own.

"I know you might not realize it now…but Daniel was only doing what he thought was best. For you. For your tribe. The last thing he wants is to hurt you."

Waking Cloud's grip on Six's hand tightened . "I thought he respected me…but I was a tool to him. Manipulated for his own ends…but I am a woman of the Sorrows, and I will have restitution for my husband."

"No," Six used his free hand to caress her cheek. "You have to let go of this anger…your people need you. Daniel needs you. Believe me…I know what it's like to be consumed by vengeance…"

She forced a smile, "You have been kind…I should thank you for bringing this truth to light."

Six shook his head. "You don't have to thank me…"

Below them, Graham emerged from the cave – Daniel following. Graham made for the isle in the center of the Dead Horses' camp. The Dead Horses and Sorrows began to gather round – the White Legs as well.

Graham climbed atop the rock formation, water flowing on either side. He stood above them – head held high.

"_Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the Earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled._" Graham took a breath. "_Blessed are the merciful…for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven._"Graham looked out over the crowd – he swallowed and turned his eyes skyward. "Citizens of Zion…children of God…I stand before you today, humbled and afraid. We are all children of the Lord…and yet we raise sword to one another instead of offering gifts to the altar. We have forgotten brother and sister…and that is something that must be reconciled. _You have heard what has been said, you shall not murder…_"

Grahams words echoed off the canyon walls…impassioned and sincere. Cloud sat up, staring down into the valley. "I wish you could have met my family…you would have liked them, I think."

Six smiled, sitting up beside her. "I'm sure I would."

"Do you have anyone waiting for you back home?"

Six took a deep breath. His mind only came to one person…her rose colored hair falling around her neck. The sweet smell of whiskey in the air. Her small figure wrapped around him during the night. Warm eyes piercing his very being. He didn't answer her.

"I know you are eager to leave Zion…to return to the Mow-ha-vay…is there nothing here that could persuade you to stay?"

"_You have heard that it was said that you shall not commit adultery…_" Graham's words bounced across the valley. Falling upon Six's deaf ears. "_If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away, for it is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell."_

Boone turned from Kurisu…losing himself in the embers before him. He found himself thinking of Carla…of his loss. Of the choices he had made. What would she say now? Knowing that he had spared the Legion's greatest force at the behest of a man he really barely knew. What would she say now…about this woman saving his life. About him saving hers…when he didn't save his own wife…

Far above the canyon floor, Waking Cloud was straddling Six now, his arms around her waist. Her lips devouring his own. He ran his hands up her figure – tracing the contours of her body. With a swift motion, he removed her top. He cupped her lower back and wheeled her around, laying her flat on the stone. He caressed her thighs, pulling her into place. Her soft moans drowning out the sound of the sermon below.

"_You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.' But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also._"

Boone stood – following the shoreline…he needed to clear his mind. He needed to get out of there.

Six fumbled with his duster – tossing it to the side. Then his riot armor…he struggled with his belt.

"_You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you that you may be Children of your Father in Heaven…"_

Six looked down at her – lying in wait. The tribal markings splashing across her body – rivers in their own right, marking the boundaries between her hips, her thighs, and breasts. His eyes followed the rivers up – through the valley, across the plains, towards the peaks. Then he saw the crimson hair spilling down over her shoulders…open leather jacket exposing bare skin, the rattan cowboy hat at her side.

Cass.

He froze in place when he met her eyes, looking up at him with that familiar warmth.

Love.

He swallowed – he quit struggling with his belt.

Below him he could hear Graham now…clear as day. As if he were standing next to him.

"…_and forgive us our trespasses, so that we may forgive those who trespasses against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…"  
_

* * *

_That's it for this chapter. I don't have anything to rant about this time around...  
_

_I'll get around to posting another chapter later this week. Until next time.  
_


	12. Chapter 11: Rite Of Passage

_So, before you all dive into this chapter - be aware that it jumps back and forth a little bit. Hopefully it doesn't confuse you, but I did it for a dramatic effect. If anyone has questions feel free to shoot me a message. If too many people seem confused, I'll give the chapter a revamp._

_I kind of went crazy with some creative liberties here...but I think this chapter is one of my more interesting ones. It's pretty far out there, but I like the way it turned out._

_Enjoy._

* * *

"Six…"

She stared up at him – her vibrant eyes glimmering in the mid-day light. Those eyes that he had grown so accustomed to seeing each morning. Her voice was soothing – he'd missed its sound. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed it until now.

He swallowed, his mouth fumbling for words to say. His mind grasping at straws – some type of explanation. She wasn't here…she couldn't be. She was in the Mojave…and he was…somewhere. The sky grew dark around him. The world lapsed into effervescent shades of red and blue. They'd blend together – creating a purple aura that swallowed the world whole, but only momentarily. Then the colors would bleed through, one overtaking the other. He was nauseous. His stomach curled and cramped – his head throbbed and his eyes watered. Before him the world began to grow dim, the colors fading and pulsating.

He struggled to stand…

"Cass…"

Then he was falling. Dark waves of liquid light surrounding him. He couldn't breathe…suddenly aware he was drowning, he commanded his body to fight. To stand. _To move._ But it was fruitless…he was paralyzed. He could do nothing as he felt himself slipping from reality into a world not his own.

* * *

The campfire was reduced to embers. Boone sat quietly next to it – cleaning his rifle. He could feel her eyes on him.

She didn't say much – she just watched him intently. Some part of him felt indebted to her…but another part of him wanted her to leave him be.

Across the camp, Six stifled a yawn as he sat up – rubbing his tired eyes. Sleeping on this makeshift bedding was disagreeable to say the least. His neck was stiff, his back was sore, and he still felt exhausted. He flipped through the dials on his pip-boy. Almost 8am…the latest he'd slept since he left for Zion. He scratched his head, stretched, and gave in to the yawn that had perched itself in his throat. He stumbled to his feet, twisting his neck once to the side – it cracked loudly in protest – and made his way across the encampment, leaving his duster over a peaceful, slumbering Cloud.

He sat next to Boone – immediately he felt an uncomfortable wave of tension.

"Sleep well?" He asked, trying to ignore the awkward position he'd found himself in.

Boone grunted in response.

"Where's Graham?"

"Talking with the White Legs at Three Marys."

"Didn't he and Kurisu have the negotiations yesterday?"

"Yeah."

Six waited for Boone to bring clarity to the situation, but received none.

"Then…why'd he go back?"

Boone shrugged.

Six twisted his lips into a ball. _Fan-fucking-tastic._

Across the camp, Six could see a group of tribals gathered around an ornately dressed man. The man stood before them – preaching in a language mostly foreign to Six. He could understand bits and pieces of it anyway.

Six watched the man contently as he preached – speaking of the Father in the Caves, visions of truth, and the Ghost of She.

Movement at his side startled him from his thoughts – he jerked his head around to see Waking Cloud nestling at his side.

"White Bird," she said, motioning towards the man, "our shaman."

"I gathered as much. What's this 'Ghost of She'?"

With a smile, Waking Cloud laid Six's duster across her lap, hugging it gently. "You are eager to learn the ways of our tribe, yes?"

Six shrugged. "I'm curious, I'll admit."

"Curious? It is fitting then. It is a sad story – that of the Ghost of She. But since it is you that is asking…I will tell you. Long ago a girl lived among this tribe…a curious child," Waking Cloud's soft eyes examined Six. "Much like yourself…and a clever one as well. Her mother had a devil's time watching over her…she would always slip away to explore the valley and play in the nearby caves. The caves – as you know – are forbidden to us. And for good reason – for the creatures of Zion do the work of the Father. The girl did not know that a yao guai slept in the cave. A protector…guarding it from the prying eyes and inquisitive hands of those who might trespass against Him. Much like the she bears that – at the will of the Father – defended Elisha in the New Canaanite's sacred books…so too did the yao guai defend the sacred caves. The girl died and the tribe wept – for she had died before her naming day. The girl's spirit would remain…and it would bond with the spirit of the bear. As it had consumed her – so the two would become one. So we call the beast the Ghost of She – for the child had no name to be called."

Six's brow raised of its own accord – it was met with laughter.

"The story has significant meaning for our tribe," Waking Cloud explained. "Inside of us all there is two beasts. The hungry bear, Strife – a curiosity that cannot be satiated. And a wise bighorner, Peace – content with the life and knowledge the Father has bestowed upon us. We must learn to give dominion to the bighorner over this curiosity – over our own ghosts – and learn to obey the will of the Father in the Caves."

"Sounds pretty morbid to me," Six confessed. "What if there are no good beasts inside you? Only War and Death?"

Waking Cloud smiled at him. "There is always good inside of us. Come, I will introduce you to our shaman." She stood, clasping Six's hand in her own and practically dragged him to his feet. Before he had time to protest, he stood before White Bird.

The shaman was surprisingly young...Six had to wonder if his duties had fallen upon him prematurely; perhaps due to some unfortunate circumstance. Namely the White Legs.

As they approached, the shaman locked his gaze on Six immediately. His eyes made Six feel wary. Uncomfortable.

"Hola, outsider. You come to receive visions of truth?"

The tribal's voice was droll...his words strung together poorly. Six could tell he was not quite comfortable with the tongue he was attempting to speak.

"Visions of truth?" Six repeated.

The tribal eyed him meticulously before continuing. "…you quest for love. For self. For God. But you know not where to look. You must seek guidance from the Father. You must seek visions of truth."

Six's mouth twisted into a grin.

"You do not speak…wise man knows when to speak and when to shut mouth. You maybe wise…maybe not." White Bird sat upon the damp ground. He beckoned Six to join him. Still smirking, Six did so.

The shaman reached into his pouch – he removed a handful of stones, shells, and small bones. He cast them out in front of him and studied them carefully.

"Spirits have spoken…" White Bird looked at Six, his eyes full of sympathy. "You have lost past…the Father sympathizes with you. He too lost great deal. The Father does not wish for you to lose more than you have…the wild rose, she waits for you, yes?"

Six's smile faded.

"But you fear for safety…for the rose. For friends and family. You deny truths…live in deception. Deny the path the spirits have laid out before you."

Six began pushing himself to his feet.

"Sit," White Bird commanded.

Six stood above the Shaman. He found himself immobilized – but he did not sit.

"Spirits guide you whether you listen or not. Smarter to listen, no?"

His eyes found their way to Waking Cloud – she silently beckoned him to remain. Begrudgingly, he sat back down.

"The Father does not teach in words," the Shaman continued. "The Father teaches in action and in consequence. In water and in flame. For you to find the answers you seek – you must conquer the ghosts that haunt you – you must slake the hunger of the bear and soothe the angry bull. Or never find the peace you desire so and find the rose withered to dust."

Heart racing, head spinning. Six found himself dumbfounded – staring at the shaman, mouth agape.

The shaman turned to a nearby tribal – the tribal provided him with a splintered mug, stained yellow from age and whatever drink now filled it to the brim.

"Sacred datura tea…bestow upon you visions of truth. Tea is strong. Tea is bitter. Wisdom is strong. Wisdom is bitter. You see?"

Six's head began to nod, of its own accord.

"Drink. Depart into cave of mind. Find ghosts…lay them to rest. This is your quest. Bring peace where there is strife."

Six was beside himself…watching as hands, hands that were of his body but not his own, grasped the cup. Those hands lifted the tea to his mouth and he drank.

He felt nothing.

White Bird smiled. "Visions of truth shall reveal themselves in time."

* * *

"Six…" Waking Cloud lay on the stone – skin exposed to the warm air around them. Six was on his knees, looking down at her. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

He struggled to his feet.

"Cass…"

He stumbled backwards – falling off the stone pass. She was on her feet in an instant, both hands wrapped around his wrist. He dangled above the camp. Below them the sermon had come to an abrupt end. She could see Raul making his way up the hill as fast as his legs would carry him – Daniel on his heels.

At the center of the camp, Graham's words had come to an end. The tribals stared up in disbelief as the small woman held on for dear life.

But she could feel Six slipping. Her grip getting weaker. Her fingers losing their hold. Then her hands were empty. He was gone. Free falling. Parting the water below.

But there were two splashes. Waking Cloud's eyes frantically searched the water's surface. Crescent shaped ripples extended in all directions. Time seemed to crawl to a stop – across the encampment, she could see terrified expressions spreading like wildfire.

A minute passed. Two?

Then someone emerged…Graham, dragging Six by his collar.

"Get Daniel," He barked at a nearby Kurisu. "Daniel, por favor – prisa!"

Snapping back to reality, Kurisu nodded and began up the hill. Waking Cloud watched Graham drag Six's limp body to the shore. He lay Six flat on the ground and put his ear to Six's mouth, listening for breath. Then to his chest…listening for a heartbeat. Graham turned his gaze towards Waking Cloud – his eyes piercing her very being. Finally, he turned to a nearby tribal. He barked more orders – then he placed his hands on Six's chest and began to pump.

* * *

The air was thick. Sour. Six could smell the stench of blood and vomit. He couldn't see…it was dark.

Where was he?

He tried to focus – pushed his eyes to adjust. The world around him began to form – taking shape. The dust began to settle…a strange sense of familiarity crept over him. Towers began to stand erect around him, people began to take shape…ruined streets, burning buildings.

He recognized this. He'd been here before.

The Strip set ablaze.

People darting up and down the streets – running precariously in every direction. The crackle of gunfire filling the air…and he saw it again.

The beast. The minotaur – emerging from the south gate. Slung over its shoulder was the woman he loved. The woman that loved him.

Cass.

But this time it was different. It wasn't striding away from him…it was charging him. Its massive arms toppling buildings – casting people aside. Its eyes burned crimson and its horns left a trail of bloody, broken bodies.

Then from the north…the bear. The creature was on fire – charging headlong into battle. They were on each other in seconds – tearing each other apart at the seams. Locked in a seemingly eternal struggle. War and Death.

The streets ran red with blood.

Six scoured the battlefield, searching for Cass.

The bodies began to fade – the fires began to die. The desert began to creep back in; reclaiming the vestiges of New Vegas.

A lone flag – billowing in the wind.

The mark of the bull?

No. Not this time…

Ivory and crimson.

The two-headed bear.

And he could see it.

The flaming beast, War, seated atop the broken frame of the Lucky 38.

"I smell your fear," The beast told him. "I hear your cries. I know your ways."

He swallowed, staring the beast down. He fumbled for his weapons…none were to be found.

"I see your fate," The creature bellowed.

"And what fate is that?!" He cried back, voice full of despair.

"The only certainty is death. Death of those you hold dear. Wherever you go. For everyone you love."

"No."

"Do you wonder why you push her away? Why you betray her time and time again?"

Six didn't respond.

"You push her away…not to protect her, but to live the way you are meant to live. Free. Unconfined. Do not fool yourself into believing you betray her for her own good."

"She's better off without me…for now."

"Forever. This much is certain. You know what you are. What you've done."

"When this is over…when it's safe for her to come back…"

"Times may change. Circumstances change. People do not," The creature growled, low and vicious.

"You're wrong! I'm not the man I used to be!"

"You aren't? And still, you've found your ways back into your old ties…back to the arms of Caesar."

"I've only just met the man."

"You needn't meet him to serve him. You serve him still."

"I serve no man."

"And yet you are here at his request."

"To bring about his downfall."

The creature laughed, leaping from its position and landing into the sandy street below. It stalked around Six. "Give in to your fate."

"There is no fate," Six's shouted, his voice thunderous. "Only choice."

The sound of laughter filled the air around him again. The flaming beast charged, pinning him to the ground. It leaned in close. He could feel its breath – hot and thick against his skin. A putrid odor emanating from the depths of its being. It leaned in close – the foul stench of its breath was enough to make his stomach churn.

* * *

"His breathing is shallow," Daniel held one of Six's eyes open, examining it closely. "Pupils dilated, hyperthermia, increased heart rate...this is the strongest reaction to datura that I've ever seen."

They were in Graham's chamber – a soft breeze whipped through the cave, whistling softly. Six lay motionlessly in a bedding of hay and pine needles, cool rags spread out across his skin. Across the corridor, a small fire cast shadows across the room – its embers smoldering lightly. The smell of burning cedar swathed the air around them.

"How was he poisoned?" Boone asked flatly, pulling the slide back on his pistol.

"No external wounds. At least…not recent enough to be the source of the contaminant. My guess, it was ingested."

"He wouldn't intentionally eat anything toxic," Boone's voice was resolute.

"Unless he was unaware," Graham interjected.

"So we're looking at what? An assassination attempt?"

Daniel shook his head. "We can't know that for certain. The Sorrows, the Dead Horses…the datura root is sacred to them. It's used for a variety of traditions."

"Shit…" Boone shook his head. The others looked at him expectantly. "This morning, before we broke camp. Waking Cloud told Six about a girl that was killed by a bear."

"The Ghost of She," Daniel clarified.

"That's the one. Anyway, after the story she took him to meet the shaman."

"One of the rites of passage for any Sorrow is slaying their 'ghosts' – their inner demons," Daniel was nodding at this point. "In order to do that, they drink a tea brewed from the datura root. On its own, the datura root is highly toxic. But in the tea, it acts as a hallucinogen. And a strong one at that." He curled his lower lip. "It can produce a variety of effects…delirium, hallucinations, violent behaviors, the inability to distinguish what's imagined and what's real…even amnesia."

"Amnesia?" Boone scowled. "Great."

"I haven't seen a reaction this pronounced though…to cause a comatose state."

"Yesterday," Graham stroked his chin. "When we were infiltrating the camp, the cazador."

"Yeah," Boone nodded.

Daniel let his eyes wander a moment, chewing his lower lip. "Maybe…" he retrieved a black leather book from the breast pocket of his black flannel shirt. He flipped through the pages. "Cazador stings have been known to cause paralysis, but only if the venom is administered in a high dose…what if the toxins pronounce the effects of one another. Synergizing in a way that intensifies otherwise lesser affects."

Graham shook his head, "I gave him antivenom for the sting."

"What kind?" Raul's raspy voice called out.

Graham turned towards the source of the voice. "The same type the tribal's use…a combination of Xander root, broc flower, the datura root, and spore plant pods."

"It uses the same plant that's poisoned him?" Boone narrowed his eyes.

"The plant on its own is toxic…but when blended with the other herbs, it has a restorative effect. It acts as an antivenom."

"When I was a little boy back before the war – one of my brothers was bitten by a snake. Back then, wild venomous snakes consisted primarily of rattlers and vipers. At least in New Mexico. The antivenom they administrated didn't work though. It turned out the venom had mostly deprived his brain of oxygen. He was in pain, despite his protests. He just didn't know it. See, he had tried to buy a cobra. The man told him the glands had been removed…needless to say, the man had lied. My brother didn't want to say anything because it wasn't exactly legal. He didn't want to get into trouble. Or to get the seller into trouble. Luckily, the man came forward in time. My mother's brother."

"You're suggesting the antivenom had no affect on the cazador sting?" Graham asked. "The tribals have been using it for decades."

"Maybe," Raul shrugged. "Or maybe they built up a tolerance over time."

Daniel laughed to himself. "Of course…and the datura antivenom uses the root. And just like the tea…my bet is it had a euphoric affect. The toxin was still in his system. Six wasn't cured…he was intoxicated."

"So we just need to administer an antivenom that has an affect on cazador stings," Graham pressed his hand to brow. "But finding here isn't going to be easy."

"We don't need to," Raul spread a dry smile across his weathered face, he tossed a small vial to Daniel. "Always be prepared."

* * *

The creature began to dissipate. Still, Six found himself pinned by an unknown foe. He couldn't move despite his struggling. "Get the hell off me!" Six yelled, his voice full of fury.

He could see eyes, burning in darkness. A red beret…dark duster and riot gear. A crude, unshaven face. A mirror…only living. Himself in the flesh.

The Faux-Six grinned viciously. "Liar. Womanizer. Murderer. You see what you are now. I am everything you have become." The doppelganger pressed a blade – Six's own machete – to his throat. "I am everything you've already become."

Six swallowed, pushing himself forward. He could feel the blade piercing his flesh – the blood trickling across his skin. He drove his knee into the doppelganger's abdomen. Then he was on his feet, charging headlong into battle with himself. The doppelganger drove the machete forward, narrowly missing his mark – it doubled back with the flat of his blade, clouting Six's arm.

Wailing in pain, Six leapt back, clutching his shoulder. The doppelganger didn't let up – quickly arcing around again, sweeping Six's legs out from under him. He hit the ground with a thud – and again, the doppelganger was over top of him. It swung sporadically, crashing into the ground with thunderous blows. Six rolled out of the way, quickly regaining composure. But he didn't have time to breathe; that bastard was on him again, spinning the machete around wildly. Six stepped forward, catching his doppelganger's arm at the elbow, he snapped the replica's arm back - knocking the machete from its grasp – then drove the sole of his foot into his opponent's knee. With lightning speed he scooped up the machete and pushed the Faux-Six to the ground. The tides had turned – and now Six held the machete to its throat.

"Do it," The replica grinned. And suddenly he was on top of the beast – its fire consuming them both. The bear's lifeless eyes staring up at him. It growled low and fierce. "I will forever be a part of you. You cannot defea…"

The beast's voice was cut out by the distinct sound of metal piercing flesh. Six pressed the blade deep into its throat – pinning it to the ground. Around him, its fire began to extinguish. Then the world began to die away – fading to black. He heard voices surrounding him. A bighorner stood before him.

"Six! Six are you with me?" The bighorner asked.

A sharp pain in his face. A slap.

"He's coming to."

The world began to brighten – for a minute he could see it. A rose, shining bright. Then, was staring up into the face of Daniel.

"What the fuck happened?" Six asked, eyes adjusting to the light.

Daniel smiled. "You gave us quite a scare."

* * *

_So, the beginning is from Six's perspective...followed by a flashback sequence explaining why he's hallucinating. Then it picks back up in the present from Waking Cloud's perspective. I hope that was clear - I think it was, but my thoughts are biased. If that wasn't clear enough, please let me know._

_I'm working on the epilogue for THAS now. It should be posted by tomorrow night (maybe sooner). I wrote this chapter and the first part of the epilogue in one sitting. I'm going to revise the epilogue and add a good conclusion and try to get it posted for you soon. This chapter was difficult to write...I did a little bit of research on antivenom, and synergy (which is two or more things - drugs, governments, people, etc. - working together). So I learned a bit today too. I know in the game, the datura antivenom works for all poison...but I decided to deviate a bit for dramatic effect. Originally I had Daniel suggest developing an antivenom from the antibodies in the Sorrow's blood. But apparently making antivenom takes a long time...and I didn't want Six to die waiting for an antivenom. So yeah, I decided to have Raul be prepared. Which makes sense, cause he's awesome.  
_

_We'll be back in the Mojave soon...and I've got some great ideas planned. At least, I hope they're great. As always, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I like it...it's not my usual type, so it was a lot of fun (albeit difficult) to write.  
_

_Until next time.  
_


	13. Epilogue: Paradise Lost

_I meant to finish this last night...but after I watched American Horror Story, I went to sleep. So I finished it up this morning, and here it is._

_I like the way it turned out...or, at least, part of me does. But at the same time...I'm kind of worried that I didn't quite pull it off. Hopefully I'm wrong, and everyone enjoys the conclusion to THAS._

_If not...tell me what you didn't like. But if you do like it...leave me some good reviews. Ease my weary mind.  
_

* * *

Daniel stood over Six. He lifted his head and emptied the contents of the vial into his mouth. Six choked a bit, but swallowed it. Then Daniel retrieved another vial from a bag at his side – the same type of vial that Graham had given to Six just days before – and emptied its contents into his mouth as well.

He placed two fingers to Six's throat – feeling his pulse. "Only thing to do now is wait…"

"Get the hell off me!" Six yelled.

Daniel leapt back, clearly startled. He waited for a moment, but Six didn't move.

They sat mostly in silence. A half hour passed…maybe longer. Then Six began to groan in his sleep. Daniel made his way to his side. "Temperature's gone down. Heart rate stabilized." He shook him gently. "Six? Six are you with me?"

Nothing.

Daniel cast a glance over his shoulder, then turned back to the comatose man. He raised his hand and brought it down hard across Six's face. Six grunted and his eyes began to stir.

"He's coming to," Daniel said, a smile on his face.

Six's eyes were narrow, adjusting to the light.

"What the fuck happened?"

Daniel sat back onto the ground. "You gave us quite a scare," he said, his voice relieved.

Six tried to sit up, but immediately the room began to spin. An intense pain settled in the middle of his forehead. The small fire across the room was shining impossibly bright. "Christ, it's bright in here," Six said, shielding his eyes.

Daniel stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Photosensitivity is a common side-effect of datura ingestion. Shouldn't last more than a couple of days."

Six squinted, still shielding his eyes. "Fuck that. Give me some Med-X."

Daniel laughed, "Would that I could, but Med-X isn't exactly abundant in these parts."

Six Scanned the chamber for his bag. "In my pouch…"

Boone scooped the bag off of Graham's table and rummaged through it. When he had found it, he handed it to Daniel.

"I'm not exactly comfortable giving you…"

Six cut him off. "Just give me the damn syringe."

With a sigh, Daniel removed the syringe's protective cap. He jammed it – probably a little too forcefully – into Six's arm.

Six grunted in pain, but after a moment he felt its warmth creep over him. His head quit pounding and the aching in his eyes subsided.

"Try to use it sparingly," Daniel said.

"I don't typically use pain killers, Doc," Six confessed, smiling now. "I probably only have a couple more anyway."

"Three," Boone confirmed.

Six pressed his palms to his eyes. "So what the hell happened?"

"You participated in a Sorrow rite of passage…good news is, you've become an honorary member of their tribe," Daniel replied. "A courtesy that, thus far, has only been extended to the New Canaanites. And a select few at that. The bad news is…the tea you drank had a stronger affect on you than most. As far as we can tell…that was because of the cazador sting you received a few days back."

Six blinked a few times and forced himself to sit up. Despite the effects of the Med-X, his stomach still lurched at the sudden movement. For a moment, he thought he may vomit – but he swallowed and regained composure.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Daniel asked.

Six took a deep breath and thought on it for a moment. "I was…with," He paused. He couldn't have been with who he thought he was with. "Waking Cloud," he guessed, "On the overpass above the camp."

Daniel nodded, clearly pleased: "Looks like there was no memory loss."

"Don't have much memory to lose," Six jibed.

Daniel chuckled. "Well, you need to rest."

With a nod, Six reclined. He was out before the others left the chamber.

* * *

He awoke to Waking Cloud sitting at his side. She smiled tenderly at him. "Welcome back."

Six squinted his eyes – his head was pounding again. "Hey," he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Boone said you may need this," She held out a syringe of Med-X.

Six examined it for a moment then shook his head. "No, it's not that bad. I can handle it."

She flashed a sympathetic smile, then sat it at his side. "In case you change your mind…" She stroked his arm gently. "Forgive me."

Six's face twisted in confusion. "For?"

"I should not have asked you to participate in our rituals. Had I'd known…" Her gaze fell groundward.

Six immediately tucked his index finger under her chin – raising her eyes to meet his own. "Hey…You listen to me, now. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Waking Cloud swallowed – her eyes wet with tears. She leaned in close, her lips mere centimeters from his own. Six found his hands acting on their own again – for reasons he couldn't explain, he grasped either side of her face, tilting her head down, and kissed her forehead. Then he reclined against the cave wall with a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes.

The tribal woman looked puzzled for the briefest of moments, her lips trembling. "It is this Cass?"

Brow furrowed, his eyes shot open and he stared at her – though he found he could not focus. His eyes would wander to and fro – from her, to the ground or cave ceiling, and back again. Days before the desire was there…and even now, he thought Waking Cloud was a vision of beauty. He liked the way her soft skin felt against his own.

But that burning passion – that overwhelming desire to have her…it was gone. He remained silent.

She bit her lower – still trembling – lip. Forcing the movement to subside. "She is a lucky woman…" she said, grasping Six's hand in her own.

Movement at the chamber entrance caught their interest, breaking the tension. It was the Sorrow's shaman – White Bird. His head held high, he made his way across the span at a leisure stroll. His left hand fiddled with the gauntlet on his right.

"Ghosts lay dead in grave?" He asked in his droll voice. Before Six could answer, he turned his attention to Waking Cloud. "Daniel wishes to speak with you."

Waking Cloud stood, letting their interlocked fingers slowly slide apart – Six's arm fell back to the bedding with a light thud. She began towards the cave exit – casting a final glance at Six just before she disappeared from sight.

Six turned his attention back to the shaman.

"Ghosts haunt you still?"

"No…" Six shook his head, exhaling a quick puff of air

The shaman smiled widely. "Then visions of truth are at an end. Will you learn from truth?" He curled his lower lip and shrugged softly. "Maybe yes. Maybe no. For you to decide."

"Your people believe that inside of us…there's two creatures. Strife and Peace…but, when we spoke…you mentioned the bear and the bull."

"Inside us…live many creatures. The wise owl. The hungry bear. The playful cub. Different for each person…the creature that survives, shapes us into their form – it is the creature we feed."

"But how did you know…"

The shaman shook his head. "Maybe know. Maybe plant image in your mind." He shrugged, echoing moments passed. "For you to decide." He dropped his yao guai gauntlet onto Six's chest. "Use well. Or sell to curio trader. Learn from life…or ignore its teachings. Either way, says much about you."

* * *

Six shielded his eyes from the mid-day sun. Near the cave entrance – gathered around a recently extinguished campfire – he found them, huddled in a circle. As he approached, Raul made room for him. "Saved you a plate, Boss." He pushed the plate in Six's direction – "Smoked gecko topped with agave sauce and diced jalapeño, sliced banana yucca, and pinto beans."

"He's quite the chef," Graham said, nodding to Raul. "You won't be disappointed." He turned to a tribal, "Fetch our guest some fresh water."

Six took the plate and sat next to Raul.

"I trust you're feeling better?" Daniel studied Six carefully.

Six pressed his lips. "Well, I'm not feeling any worse."

"That's good to hear," Graham nodded approvingly. "Well enough to travel?"

"Yeah, I think so."

The tribal returned with a sarsaparilla bottle filled with fresh water – Six politely accepted it.

"Good," Graham spoke softly. "We'll break camp in the morning."

"We?"

Graham took a long breath and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I tried so hard to separate myself from the legends of the Legate. The legends of the Burned Man. To remove myself from the Mojave and all of its problems…you have shown me something, courier. Something I needed to see. The Mojave suffers for many reasons…for the actions I have taken against it, and for the actions I haven't taken for it. If it is within my power to help the people of the Mojave…then I have an obligation to do so. An obligation to them, to God…even to myself. When we met I told you that no other man could have commanded the Legion. That only Caesar possessed the required skills to lead those masses. I was wrong. There is one other."

Six raised a brow. "I'm not sure I'm following you…"

"You, courier. There is a war coming. A battle for the Mojave…and there are two sides. I fought on one side…for Caesar. Now I'm going to fight for the other. The NCR isn't perfect…too much love of money and ownership, not enough love of God and giving. Any society that derives its power and authority from the will of man alone lives apart from God and will crumble in the end," Graham clasped his hands together, bringing them to his face. He rested his chin on his thumbs and his nose across his knuckles. "I am aware of my crimes. Against the Republic. And I am aware that they would not actively accept me among their ranks…but I can fight alongside you. And given the chance, that's what I'll do."

Six was quiet at this notion. He had hoped – hell, he'd even expected – Graham to return with him when the time come…but not for this reasoning. But for vengeance. The driving force behind his own actions…and behind Graham's actions, up until this point. Six bit his lower lip.

"I just hope," Graham continued, "that when all is said and done, the tribes he has thus conquered do not suffer at his defeat."

Six nodded, understandingly. "We'll see…"

Graham smiled, under his bandaging. "The Lord reveals all things in good time."

* * *

The moon had settled high in the night sky. Six found himself perched atop the pass where he and Waking Cloud had spent those brief moments together.

But it was not Waking Cloud on his mind.

He thought of that desert rose – of their times together in the Mojave. He thought back to the first night he held her. He owed her an apology for that night…and he owed her thanks. He reached into the inside breast pocket of his duster – withdrawing the fine silver necklace he'd found those days before. He held it up, examining it…remembering the night Cass had saved his life. And her pendent…falling from within her shirt, swinging hypnotically mere inches from his face.

She had stayed with him before he'd found the riches of the Sierra Madre.

Before the glamour of the strip.

Before he could walk into any Casino and order anything he wanted…telling them to "put it on his tab". "His" being House, of course.

But more importantly…she had waited on him when he left. She had forgiven him for his sins. All the things that the New Canaanites had preached about their God…he had already found in Cass.

And he had abandoned her. Driven her away.

He moved his eyes from the silver chain – turning them to the sky. _These_, he thought_…these are the same stars she's looking up at now_. And across a vast distance, settled into a little room in Novac. He was right.

* * *

"Why'd you help me?"

His voice was shaking. It never shook.

Kurisu looked up at him, a gentle smile across her face.

"You don't know me. You didn't owe me anything. Why'd you help me?"

Kurisu was quiet – she seemed to be lost in thought. "Why?"

Boone gave her a nod, "Yes. Why?"

She tilted her head, "Why you save Kurisu?"

"Because…because I felt indebted. I had to…"

"You would not…if Kurisu not saved you?"

Boone was quiet at this notion…the answer seemed obvious. "What? No. Of course I would."

"Why?"

His face twisted at this question…he didn't have a reason. Hell…he didn't even know if it was true. He wanted to believe it was, somewhere deep inside of himself. He wanted to believe that he wouldn't let another woman die at the hands of the Legion. Not if it was within his power…but, of course, she was Legion too. Or, at the very least, potentially Legion.

"I…don't know." He answered finally.

Kurisu smiled at him. "Not always have to be 'why', yes?"

He stared at her for a long moment. She was right.

* * *

That morning, they began making preparations to leave. By noon, they had said their goodbyes. Now, they were following the road – back towards the camp where they had been ambushed. As they neared the camp – Six thought of Stella. He thought of the other caravaners.

"We have to bury them," he said, when the camp was within eyeshot.

"Your caravan?" Graham asked, scouting the camp.

Six nodded. "We can't leave them out like this, exposed. We have to bury them."

Graham turned to Boone and Raul. "Do you think you two can handle this?"

Boone raised a brow.

"I'd like to show Six something."

"Sure thing, Jefe." Raul placed a hand on Boone's shoulder. "We'll take care of this. Do what you need to."

Graham turned to Six. "Let's take a walk."

They began to backtrack – following the trail towards the Dead Horses camp. But before long, they began to deviate from the trail. Graham took Six east – across the Virgin River, and towards the former White Leg camp at Red Gate.

"Where are we going?"

Graham didn't answer. He paused briefly, examining the rock structure, then began to climb. Six followed suit. When they had reached the top, Graham withdrew his rifle.

The rifle was worn – the wood scratched and the steel faded. The word "Arret!" carved into the stock.

"It's French," Graham explained. "It means, 'stop'." Graham sat next to the ancient remains of someone long dead. "You're probably wondering why I brought you here."

"Remote place…if I had to guess, I'd say you're going to kill me."

Graham laughed. "No. No, I have someone I'd like you to meet."

Six raised a brow.

"This," he looked towards the skeletal remains, "is Randall Clark."

Six cocked his head to the side. "The survivalist?"

"The Father in the Cave. This rifle belonged to him."

Six grinned. "You're shitting me right?"

"No. Before the White Legs, I used to scout this valley regularly. I wanted to understand the Sorrows – their beliefs. Traditions. When I found the first terminal with entries from Randall Clark, I realized that the Sorrows' God…their Father…had an origin. It was based in reality…although the belief had been twisted over the centuries, turning a man into myth."

"Why show me this?"

"I know you do not share my faith. But you seem troubled…especially these last few days. I wanted you to see that just because our Father has not shown himself to you…it doesn't mean that he isn't there. The Sorrows have never found this man…to be honest, I pray they never will. But, still, they believe. They believe in a Father they've never seen. And that's what faith is about."

"So…you want me to find God up here on this mountain?"

Graham chuckled softly. "No. I want you to see two things. First…faith can be derived from reality. The Father the Sorrows believe in did in fact exist. But more than that, I wanted you to see what physical evidence does to faith. What do you think would happen if the Sorrows had found the body of this man?"

"Now? They'd chalk it up to some dead guy."

"What about then? Back when they were first settling this valley?"

Six was quiet. He understood.

"The faith that they had would have diminished. They wouldn't have become the peaceful tribe they are today…although, I fear, those days may have come to an end. But that's neither here, nor there."

"I still don't understand why you brought me here."

"You're lost, Six. I can see it in your eyes…you don't know what to believe in. I aim to correct that."

"I'm sorry…I'm never going to believe in your God."

"And that's okay. But you told me once that you did believe in something. You believed in me. In Boone. In people…" Graham scooped up a handful of dirt. "And in this," he let it trickle from his hands. "But you have to believe in something else." He pushed a finger into Six's chest. "You have to believe in yourself. These demons that haunt you…believe me when I say no good will ever come from them. That fire consumed me…it burns in me still. I fear it will always be a part of me. But you are young…there is still time."

Six swallowed. Knees shaking, he sat upon the earth.

"We cannot escape the sins of our past…and simply asking for forgiveness isn't enough. Your loyalty to your people…their loyalty to you…it has shown me that. They believe in you. You and I…we're not so different from the Sorrows, the Dead Horses, or even the White Legs. We fancy ourselves civilized…but the truth is, we are tribes. We wear more clothing than they do…we understand more about technology. We gather in places like the Boneyard, Pheonix, and New Vegas. But those are just that – places. Metal and stone. New Canaan died…but the tribe lived on. When the walls come tumbling down, when you lose everything around you, you always have family. And your family believes in you…even when you don't believe in yourself."

Graham made his way to a large duffle bag near the remains of Randall Clark. He rummaged through it – withdrawing a holotape. "Daniel was unsure that we acted righteously…he still is. And perhaps that concern has fallen upon you." He handed the holotape to Six.

Six examined it in silence – then inserted it into the slot on his pipboy. As he read, Graham began to speak.

"_I hope they do well…I hope no harm comes to them, from within or without. I did my best to prepare them…told them what makes them special. I told them to be kind to each other. To be modest. To never hurt each other…but if someone comes along and tries to hurt them, to strike back with righteous anger. …I Told them 'the Father' was pleased by their kind natures and that it would be up to them to handle things on their own from now on. That I'd be silent, but always watching. Always caring._

_Lies. Of Course. Like I told you, Char. Like I told Alex and Sylvie. But I wouldn't go back and unsay any of it…even if I could. But I never forgot your faces…_

_So what's the point of it all? So many failures?_

_The only point of living that I can think of is to keep those pictures in my head as long as I could. It's not a choice…I chose to die again and again. I just never did…my body had its own drive._

_I hope…I hope they have it. The little ones. The species will need it, if it's to continue. To revive itself._

_That blind drive onward."_

Six swallowed. He felt his eyes welling up. Graham had turned his attention to the horizon – studying it in silence. Six made his way to the body of Randall Clark. He rummaged through his bag – withdrawing a small black folding spade. He drove it into the ground…scooping up a bit of earth. Graham turned towards him, inquisitively.

"Digging a grave," Six explained, without Graham having to ask. "Burying the past…to preserve the future."

* * *

_So...for those unaware, a folding spade is a shovel that collapses, sort of like a pocket knife. Albeit considerably larger. I thought it'd make more sense to have one of those, than for him to be toting around a shovel._

_And, this ends 18 Karat Run: Through Hardships And Sorrows. I hope everyone enjoyed it. This weekend, we'll get back into A Courier's Tale. I've got most of the next chapter written already...so, yeah. Hopefully my retelling of Honest Hearts has lived up to everyone's expectations...or at least most of everyone. Can't please everybody I suppose.  
_

_See you in the Mojave.  
_


End file.
